


The Old Lie

by escribo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, M/M, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escribo/pseuds/escribo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magical AU.  Seven years after the end of the war, Harry's new tutor turns out to have a secret and a crush on Sirius Black.  When the past catches up to him, will it destroy the family he's finally found?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a reference to the Wilifred Owen poem "Dolce Et Decorum Est".

It was dark the night the thief decided to strike. The high, thin sliver of a moon was mostly hidden behind heavy gray clouds, and extinguishing the street lamps along Diagon Alley was easy work. He paused at the massive silver doors barring entrance to Gringotts Wizarding Bank and read the words engraved there: _Enter, stranger, but take heed, of what awaits the sin of greed_. The thief grinned beneath the heavy scarf that hid his face. It wasn't greed that spurred him. The treasure he sought had belonged to his family but had been stolen long ago, and he meant to have it back.

From deep inside a hidden pocket of his tattered and mud-splattered robe, he withdrew a scratched knife dulled by time. It was the spoils of the first bit of thievery in his checkered career--a knife that could open any lock--and he pressed it now into the cylinder, listening for the metallic clink as the lock gave way, sliding open easily beneath his hand. His grin turned predatory as he slipped inside the bank undetected. It was all too easy, but the goblins had long relied on a magic of their own to protect the riches inside, and though it had taken the thief years to figure out a way past all the security measures--how not to trigger The Thief's Downfall--it hadn't been as difficult as maybe it should have been, as it would have been when the war still raged in the Wizarding world.

Once inside, he moved quickly--silently--through the vast marble hall, past the long rows of closed doors and the now vacant desks with their ledgers piled neatly in high stacks, staying in the shadows. He avoided the places where the pale light of the half moon spilled in from the high windows that lined the walls as the clouds tracked slowly across the sky, and tread carefully, listening to be sure he was alone. The goblins, too sure that their bank was impenetrable, relied on human guards at night to discourage all but the most determined, and the thief was beyond determined. He knew the guards had already made their rounds and wouldn't return for another quarter hour. Even Wizards with all their spells and charms were human creatures with very human habits--a favorite pub, a willingness to complain about their co-workers or their boss, especially when the drinks were free and plentiful. 

At the end of the long counter, the thief slipped through one of the doors and into a narrow passageway, its stone steps leading him steeply downward until he came to the row of carts that during the day carried patrons to their vaults. Their tracks descended for hundreds of miles beneath the surface, the goblins having dug deep for thousands of years, and the thief meant to follow one path to its end that night. The high security vault he sought had long been held by the Yaxleys, an old, pureblood Wizarding family who had aligned themselves with Lord Voldemort during the long war. The thief had known their son--their heir--when they had both been students at Hogwarts, though they had never been friends. That heir was dead now, killed by Aurors in the last days of the war, when all had been in chaos.

From the same pocket that held his knife, the thief withdrew a tiny broom. He tapped it once with his wand and muttered the charm that made it expand back to its original size. He mounted and kicked off, making sure his scarf still covered his face, and flew off into the gloom of the goblins' caves. The air rushed past cold and clammy as he flew, his fingers curled tightly around the broom handle. He passed a large underground lake, the dim light from his wand making the flight treacherous as he soared around the stalagmites and stalactites. It seemed like hours passed as he followed a path he had long ago memorized, until he was finally standing outside vault eight hundred and twenty-eight, closer to his goal than he had ever been before.

There was one last item tucked in that secret pocket of his robe, a gruesome tool for a thief and the only item he had stolen that he had ever regretted, not liking to disturb the dead. He withdrew the long goblin's finger, taken from a goblin's grave, and stroked it gently against the door, which melted away. Before him was a king's treasure trove, more money than he'd ever seen in his life or likely ever would--piles of gold and silver, jewels and suits of armor. There were curious magical objects for which the thief could only guess their function and their worth, but he didn't touch any of it; instead he searched only for the scroll, which was perhaps the most unassuming find in the vault, but also the only thing that was of interest to him.

He found it tucked inside an ancient wooden chest along with some other papers, deeds and certificates used to bind families more than blood or marriage ever could. His father's messy scrawl was so very familiar, and the sight of it filled the thief with a longing to hear his father's voice, to see his craggy face, but there was no time for sentiment as he unfurled the parchment only just enough to be sure it was intact before he tucked it inside the pocket of his robe. He stood for a moment more looking at the treasure that surrounded him. If he hadn't been sure that it would immediately spell his doom, he felt as though he could set fire to it all, as he had the tiny cottage in Longbourne where he'd found the first of his father's scrolls secreted away--where he'd discovered they still existed. He'd been younger then, more reckless and less sure that he would live through the end of the war. He was no less determined now to make his father's murderers pay, but less indiscriminate in his methods. The war could be blamed for his crimes then, and no one would have looked too much harder for a cause or a suspect. Not that he considered his actions crimes; rather, it was justice--a justice that the Wizarding world had long denied his family. In the end, he walked away, leaving the vault open, leaving the finger behind--he had no more need for it now--and made his escape.

***

Peter Pettigrew had been on James' mind a lot lately. Today was the seventh anniversary of his death--presumed death, anyway, as his body had never been found, only just his finger still encircled by the ring he had always worn. Just that morning James had been up to visit the memorial and lay flowers on Peter's mother's grave. She had died only just two years ago, though she had never really recovered from the shock when Peter had gone missing. James thought that Peter would like that, someone remembering his mother. James had promised her once that he would never stop searching for Peter, to give him a proper burial, to bring his murderers to justice. He meant to keep that promise, though it was becoming harder to find evidence of what had happened on the night that Peter had gone missing. James often argued that the Wizarding community had been too quick to punish the known and suspected Death Eaters. Those who hadn't been killed by the Aurors in the first days after Lord Voldemort had fallen languished now in Azkaban prison, their memories lost or corrupted by the Dementors. James vowed to keep searching but it was getting harder to do more than just remember. Still, on the anniversary of Peter's death, James was meeting Sirius to do just that--remember.

The Crow and Gate had been Peter's favorite haunt in London during the war. Even when he'd been alive it had been run down, its squib owner only just managing to keep its doors open. It had changed hands twice since Peter had last ordered his beloved chips and cider, and James and Sirius often talked about buying it themselves but never had. Still, it was quiet and out of the way, a cricket game always playing on one of the two tiny black and white television screens. As James pushed open the doors, the rain sweeping him in, he was greeted by the smell of old grease and tobacco and by the sight of Sirius already at their usual table in the corner. James stopped at the bar and ordered himself a whiskey and another for Sirius before joining him.

"Sorry I'm late, though to be fair I think this is the first you've ever been on time." James set the glasses on the table and then shrugged out of his damp jacket. "This break-in at Gringotts has the whole department in an uproar."

"I read about it this morning. Sounds like it was a clean job. I take it there's something more to it if they've brought your lot in."

"Alastor's going spare. Makes us all look bad when someone just walks into Gringotts and takes what they like."

"I thought the goblins had their own security."

"Sure, but there's not a trace of this fellow except for a pretty nasty calling card."

"A goblin's finger, I heard."

"Not from the papers you didn't."

"No. I ran into Frank earlier," Sirius said beneath the din of the punters at the bar.

James took a sip of his drink, grimacing at the quality and the burn, as he looked at Sirius in disbelief. After the war, Frank and Alice Longbottom had both stayed on as Aurors, helping Moody recruit James with their talk of duty and honor. Sirius had refused, though he'd been just as much on his way to a dissolute life as James had been. He'd had enough of war and fighting, Sirius had said, and it wasn't like James hadn't agreed to an extent. However, even after all this time, with the Ministry falling into corruption, Frank still believed, and it had been hard for James not to want to believe he was doing something important as well.

"The man can't stand being out of the action," James said after another minute of silence between them. "He's been on medical leave for three weeks and we can't keep him out of the office. Alice is ready to kill him, and I don't blame her."

"Have you caught his attacker?"

"No." James set his glass down and scrubbed at the back of his hair before he leaned forward on his elbows, lowering his voice so that Sirius had to lean in, too. "He not on this case. Moody'll hex off his other ear if he finds out, which is nothing to what Alice will do to him. Go on. What did he have to say?"

"He's got a friend who's a curse breaker for Gringotts who filled him in when Alice wouldn't. Said it was one of the older vaults. Didn't say what was taken, though." Sirius took a sip of his drink, his eyes still on James. He rapped his knuckles on the table, weighing his words, and James knew he was deciding how involved he wanted to become. "Anything of interest?"

"Likely, but nothing that anyone is owning up to. Have you heard anything?"

"No. Should I have?"

"I thought maybe your dear mum might have said something."

"So it was a member of the family?"

James nodded.

"Haven't spoken to her in a few weeks. Can do if you'd like."

"Are the two of you having a row?"

"Not really. You know how she is. I'm a scoundrel and wastrel who has never given her anything but grief and heartache."

"And certainly not an heir."

Sirius tapped the side of his nose as he sat back in his chair. "Exactly. My biggest sin."

"You can't blame the old girl for trying. You're her last hope, and there's certainly been enough candidates to raise her hopes."

"Though most of them anatomically incompatible for helping to produce the next scion of the Black family." Sirius finished off his glass and set it down with a clatter on the table. He spent a moment spinning it in the ring of condensation with wet fingers, James waiting until Sirius had wrestled down whatever else he might have had to say on the matter. "So just ask around? See if someone's crying about their family jewels gone missing."

"Yeah, quietly if you would. I don't think it's going to turn out to be jewelry or anything as easy as that. The owners of the vault have asked to remain anonymous, especially after Weasley's lot had been through and confiscated some items with dubious origins."

"Definitely my family then. I dread to think what would happen if Arthur finally got his warrant to go through Grimmauld Place." Sirius grinned a bit, clearly cheering at the thought. "Actually I don't dread it. I'm looking forward to it. My dad was quite the collector."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you say that."

"You know if it were up to me."

"I know. You'd burn the lot and be done with it."

"Too right. It's long past time for a change in the Black family fortunes. We've caused enough misery over the centuries."

"Speaking of time." James twisted his wrist to look at his watch, cringing when he saw how late it was. "I've got to run. Lily'll skin me if I'm late."

"One more drink?" Sirius asked though he was already hailing down the sole waitress and placing their order before James could protest. "We've not had our toast yet."

"One more and then I have to be off. Are you coming over this Sunday?"

"Can't. I'm going to Oslo. There's rumor of a fantastic young seeker coming up in the junior leagues. I want to see her play. I'll be gone a couple of weeks."

"Must be some player."

"If she's half as good as they say, I plan to sign her."

"You could Apparate in."

"Yes, well." Sirius cleared his throat and looked away from James, guilt etched upon his downturned lips. "Lily's likely to invite Violeta, isn't she, and it didn't end very well between us."

"She does tell them not to go out with you, though Vi certainly knew what you were like in school. Still, we carry a kind of _caveat emptor_ yeah? We're not responsible for broken hearts."

"That's just it. A few dates--a good time, and all of a sudden they want to talk about commitment and settling down."

"It's not such a bad thing, marriage and babies. It hasn't killed me."

"Yet, at least and besides, you got the best girl."

"I did, didn't I." James' smile was broad, and he could tell by the way Sirius scoffed that he probably looked like an idiot. Sirius had accused him of it often enough since James had finally talked Lily into going out with him after they returned from their first mission so many years ago.

"Does Lily require you to bring that up to me every few months?"

"It was in our vows."

"I must have missed that."

"Likely because you were flirting with the bridesmaids."

"Actually, I was dating one of your groomsmen at the time, I think."

"David something, wasn't it? Lily's second cousin or a friend of a friend of a friend."

"Don't remember, only just that he was a Muggle and a lovely chap." Sirius' grin went sharp and feral at some memory that James was glad he didn't share. "Had wonderfully talented hands."

"On that note, let's have our toast and then I'm off for home. I told Lily I'd be on time, and I'm already fifteen minutes late."

"I should be flattered then, that you stopped to have a drink at all when the lovely Lily is waiting."

"Mmm. Don't be. We're interviewing a new tutor for Harry tonight."

"What's this? The fourth this year."

"Fifth." James laughed but shifted uncomfortably on the cracked red vinyl bench. The last tutor had stormed out in high dudgeon only just the week before, Harry's antics finally besting his patience. James didn't mind if a tutor raised his or her voice to the lad on the rare occasion, but the hand was another thing altogether. "It's only that he's high-spirited. Lily says that's my fault."

"I can't imagine where she would have come away with that idea. Was it you or me who managed to give all the Slytherins forked tongues in fifth year?"

"That was definitely you, as you well know."

"Harry's too smart for tutors," Sirius said. "I always hated mine, too."

"This one comes highly recommended by Dumbledore himself. He was apparently in our year."

"A classmate? Likely seeking revenge for something you did to him when you were twelve."

"Why else would someone become a private tutor?"

"What's his name?" 

"Remus Lupin."

"You would think I wouldn't forget a name like that."

"He was in Ravenclaw."

"Of course he was. That's where they stashed all future tutors and librarians. It was actually in the Sorting Hat's rhyme wasn't it?"

"Lily remembers him. They were prefects together."

"A right swot then. I suppose that's a good quality in a tutor."

"It's the first thing I look for." James looked at his watch again. "Twenty minutes late now. Lily really will have my head. Let's toast."

"To Peter," Sirius said, sobering immediately as he raised his glass.

"To Peter," James echoed as he tipped his glass against Sirius'. "You lived respected and died regretted. I hope that wherever you are, you've found your peace."

They drank in silence and when they were finished, James cleared his throat and stood, patting Sirius' shoulder. "Be safe," he said, and nodded when Sirius clasped his hand. "And come see us when you're back in town."

James walked away quickly, suddenly angry with himself that after seven years he still hadn't kept his promise to bring Peter home to his mother--for not being able to keep all his friends safe. As he grabbed a handful of Floo powder to head home, he pushed those thoughts aside and prepared himself for Lily's ire and the new tutor.

***

Remus Lupin stumbled through the fireplace of the tavern in Hogsmeade and into the Potters’ kitchen just as the clock struck the quarter hour. He was early, only just, and as he came through he caught sight of a young boy with messy black hair and glasses peek around the corner before disappearing, leaving behind only the sound of _mum_ echoing behind him. That, Remus supposed, was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and who, if Remus’ luck held out, the boy who would be his new student. Remus didn’t hold out too much hope, it being scarce for him even in the best of times.

After a moment, Harry stuck his head back around the door, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "Are you the new tutor?"

"I've come to inquire, yes."

"Mum says she'll only just be a moment and to make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you, Harry."

Harry watched Remus for another moment with wary eyes, staring at the cane that Remus leaned heavily on, before easing back around the corner, leaving Remus to stand alone in the kitchen. He quickly dusted off his worn, brown traveling cloak, wishing he had better before he forced himself to stand still and straight. On the table next to a rapidly cooling cup of tea, Remus could see the morning edition of _The Daily Prophet_. Its headline flashed _GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LEAVES AURORS PUZZLED_. There was a picture of two goblins in red livery wringing their hands as they stood in front of the main doors as Wizards Remus recognized as Aurors conferred on the steps below. Remus did little more than glance at the article before he returned to stand nearer the fire. He half expected to be on his way back to the small room he had rented above the pub before he managed to say his full name out. Being a werewolf often meant having short interviews.

Looking to distract himself from his nerves, Remus let his eyes travel around the cozy room until they landed on a picture of three young boys that sat on the mantle and he picked it up to look at it more closely. He knew the boys, of course--everyone in their year did. James Potter, dashing in his Quidditch kit and messy black hair, caught laughing as he played with a snitch. His arm was tossed carelessly over the shoulders of Sirius Black, his best friend, Remus remembered. Actually, there wasn't much that Remus didn't remember about Sirius. Easily the handsomest boy he'd ever seen and likely the smartest as well, Remus had quite fancied Sirius when they'd been in school together, not that Sirius had ever known or noticed. The third boy was familiar, too, though Remus hadn't known that James and Sirius had been friends with him in school, or maybe he'd just forgotten. Peter Pettigrew had a special talent for going unnoticed. It had been what made him such a valuable tool for Lord Vordemort, though Remus knew that James couldn't possibly know that. Few did. Of course, that had been Remus' talent, his ability to keep secrets, to keep quiet.

"That's my husband," Lily said as she came up quite close behind Remus, startling him. "And his friends, Sirius and Peter. It's from when we were all at Hogwarts, of course. I think Gryffindor had just won against Ravenclaw there."

"I remember them."

"I remember you, too."

"Surely not," Remus said. He put the picture back on the mantle and tucked his hand back down into his pocket. "It's been ages.”

Lily Potter was as pretty now, Remus thought, as she had been as a schoolgirl. Her thick red hair was caught back in a loose, untidy braid and she wore jeans with a splattered smock. Her feet were bare. He remembered that she had always been quite good at Potions, competing with Severus Snape for all the best prizes. From what he had read in _The Daily Prophet_ , that hadn't changed.

"It's always more surprising when someone remembers me, actually. I mean, someone who wasn't in Gryffindor. We had some classes together though, do you remember?"

"Certainly, I do," Remus said. "And we were prefects together, of course, and then you were Head Girl in our last year. I remember you well. You were always very kind to me, Mrs. Potter."

"Call me Lily, and please have a seat. You must be tired," Lily said as she glanced down at his cane, though her cheeks colored a bit as she looked as though she wanted to take back the words as soon as she had said them. 

"I am. Thank you."

"James should be along soon. Shall we have a cup of tea while we wait?"

"Yes, thank you." Remus sat and leaned his cane against the table. He didn't need it most days now, his limp barely noticeable, but the damp weather sometimes made his knee stiff and sore. He watched as Lily pushed aside the newspaper and picked up her discarded tea cup to set it in the sink. She began to make a fresh pot, waving her wand as if in afterthought at the familiar task of washing the dishes even as she made the tea the Muggle way.

"You were in Ravenclaw," she said as she lit the fire beneath the kettle with a match from an old earthenware jar on the counter. "You were quite good at Defense Against the Dark Arts. You had a talent for it."

"You've an excellent memory. It was my favorite class."

"How long have you been tutoring?"

"Only these last couple of years. My mother was a teacher at a Muggle primary school when I was very little. She taught history and geography. I always thought that I would like to follow in her path but it didn't work out."

"I heard you attended a Muggle university after Hogwarts."

"In Manchester, yes. I started, but didn't finish the course." Remus gestured down with his cane, finding sometimes that it was enough to forestall conversation about what had happened to his leg, about his scars--about the gaps in his resume. People generally felt awkward enough not to question him too much. He didn't much like lying but he sometimes preferred it to the truth. "I trained a bit under Professor McGonagall's guidance, and of course my own head of house."

"As well as Professor Dumbledore, I've heard. He's taken an interest in your career as well."

"He's always been very kind to me."

"Yes, of course. He's been so to many of us."

At the sound of the kettle's whistle, Lily stood and sorted the tea, bringing it along on a tray with a tin of biscuits. Remus smiled at the thought of real tea--proper tea, made without a wand, as his mother had done when she was still alive. It had been a long time since he'd tasted it made so, only managing the cheapest sort of tea bags when he could afford any at all.

"He recommended you to us," Lily said once she had added lemon to her cup and had taken a sip. "Albus, I mean. The agencies have been less than satisfactory."

"He told me that Harry's quite sharp, but that you've had trouble finding a match that suited his energy level."

"That's a kind way to say that Harry's a bit of a troublemaker. He's too much like his father was at that age, I'm afraid."

"I remember a rumor that your husband and Sirius Black had broken a record for the number of hours served in detention."

"They certainly liked to push the limits, yes,” Lily laughed. “Harry very much takes after James in that regard, but I don't want you to think that he's bad. He's really not, just mischievous."

"Professor Dumbledore thinks he would benefit from a less structured approach."

"Exactly," Lily agreed. "The agency tutors aren't trained to provide that. It's all sitting still and rote memorization."

"Not questioning teacher."

"Not being encouraged to ask questions or seek answers, yes. His magic isn't quite under his control even now, so a Muggle school was always out of the question, and besides, I like having him home. It feels safer."

"Are there concerns for his protection?"

"Not specifically, not that we've uncovered, though we're always cautious. We don't treat him as _The Boy Who Lived_ , or at least we try not to. He's just our Harry, but we know his life is never going to be easy as he grows up."

"No, I suppose not."

"We try to make things as normal as possible--I mean as normal as they could possibly be. And he is the same as any other little boy, I think." Lily lifted her cup then set it back down. Remus saw something like sadness shadow her eyes though it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by a soft smile. "He wants to fly rather than read. His Uncle Sirius has taught him Quidditch, so he finds that more exciting than learning his maths."

"Of course. We would all rather play than work, I think."

"The other families you've worked for have been happy with the progress you made with their children, I've heard."

"There's only just been the two, Mrs. Potter--Lily. I've only been tutoring for the past couple of years and only just for a month or two during summer."

"And you've been doing research for Professor Dumbledore as well."

"Yes, when he had a particular project that he needed assistance with. I have to be honest in that I don't have a lot of experience with teaching. No agency would hire me."

"We're not concerned with that. To be honest with you, we had already decided to offer you the position based on the recommendations that we received. We only just wanted to meet you first, make sure we got on."

Remus looked up, surprised, though he supposed he shouldn't be. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall's word would obviously mean a lot to the Potters, and he was grateful that they had felt confident enough in his abilities--in him--to speak on his behalf. Still, he couldn't quite help but worry that maybe the Potters hadn't been told everything about him. For only just a moment he thought that maybe he could accept the job and find ways to hide his lycanthropy, the way it had been so easily concealed while he was at Hogwarts. That thought didn't last long, though--his conscience wouldn't let it.

"I would-- I mean, I'd like very much to work for you. I enjoy teaching very much, and the professors have spoken just as highly of you. They seemed to think we'd suit, but there’s something else you should know first, Mrs. Potter."

"Lily, Remus, please."

"Lily." Remus smiled down into his teacup as he corrected himself, though the smile faded away quickly. "Before you make your decision you should know something about me." Remus stopped again, hating this part.

"It’s all right, Remus," Lily said, seemingly anticipating his concern as she placed a gentle hand on Remus' arm, and Remus was grateful for it. "Professor McGonagall came by and spoke with me and James."

"She told you?"

"About your lycanthropy, yes, but also, like I said, that you're an excellent teacher, which is what we're interested in. She made her opinion on the matter quite clear."

"She would, wouldn't she?" Remus had to smile properly this time, knowing how vocal Minerva could be when riled. "The Ministry discourages families from hiring were--people like me. It would be taking a chance, maybe an unnecessary one, especially given Mr. Potter's--"

"James."

"James' position in the Ministry." Remus looked to the pot of _Athelas_ on the windowsill and then to the old clock above the sink--anywhere except at Lily. He knew it would be best to end this and leave quickly for both their sakes--to end her embarrassment and ease his disappointment. He straightened, ignoring the knot he felt between his shoulder blades, and rushed to finish his speech. "I could give you the names of some very well-respected teachers, people who have more experience than I do--who might be better able to help Harry."

"Are you trying to talk me out of hiring you, Remus?"

Remus looked up, both surprised and not to find that was exactly what he had been doing. "I’m sorry, Mrs. Potter--"

"Lily."

"Lily," Remus repeated, feeling his cheeks heat with his embarrassment. He supposed the only thing he should be surprised by was how long it had taken him to make a pig's ear of the interview. They were silent for several minutes, Remus afraid to look up at Lily, afraid to say anything else in fear of making things worse.

For her part, Lily only just stared at her teacup, turning it slowly three times on the saucer before she leveled her shoulders and folded her hands in her lap before she spoke. "It must have been hard for you, when you were at school," she finally said, startling him to look up in time to see her smiling at him for a moment before she broke eye contact. She was quiet for another moment as she swirled the last of her tea and looked at the leaves. "I remember that you were very quiet. Us girls, we always thought you had a secret and came up with wildly romantic stories."

"Turns out I did have a secret, yeah? Though it's not particularly romantic." Remus shifted in his chair, unsure of where this was going. He had expected her to ask him to leave.

"How did you manage it? I don't think anyone ever knew."

"I had no close friends. I mean, no one who I ever thought to tell. I was afraid. I didn't want people to hate me." Remus grimaced and pushed away his cup. He had loved Hogwarts but it had been a lonely time, especially when he had first gone away from his father. "There were precautions taken during the full moon, of course. I've always been more of a danger to myself."

"So your family. They care for you."

"My mum died when I was very young--the night I was bit, actually. I was eight. She tried to protect me." Remus looked up at Lily, expecting pity but finding none, only understanding. Remus swallowed hard, hating to remember that night though the details had been mostly concentrated to a single memory of terrible, searing pain and then darkness. He didn't think he could recall it even for such a compassionate audience as he had there in the Potter kitchen. "And then my father died when I was sixteen--killed, actually. During the war. Madame Pomfrey cared for me while I was in school. It was irregular but Professor Dumbledore allowed me to stay at the castle during my last summer when I had nowhere else to go."

"I'm so sorry." Lily covered his hand with hers. "What happens now-- I mean, during the full moon..."

"I go to a Ministry detention center. Harry need not know if you rather he didn't. I could say I was ill and it'd be true enough."

"I didn't mean that, Remus. I meant--" Lily stopped and bit at her lip for a second before she gestured to his cane. "Your scars. You said you were a danger to yourself and Minerva said that you suffered greatly sometimes. I only just wondered--"

"I take care of myself now. I'm used to doing so. I'll be no bother."

"I didn't mean--None of this changes our offer. We want you, Remus. I'm quite sure of that. I only just meant. I was only just curious."

Remus cleared his throat and forced a smile he didn't actually feel at all, though on some level it was a relief to talk about it with someone who wasn't recoiling in disgust or fear. "I didn't know the girls paid me any attention," he said, trying to change the subject.

"We paid attention to _everyone_ , especially to the boys we thought were cute."

Remus barely had time to blush as the fireplace suddenly roared to life with green flames and James tumbled from it, his glasses askew and his hair wild. Lily smoothed her hand over her smock as she stood and smiled, and Remus couldn't help but notice how her eyes lit up as James came into the room. He watched as she reached for him with one hand, even as she pointed a finger at him with the other. "James Potter. You're late. I've already hired our new tutor."

"I knew it would be best left managed by you, my dear." James kissed Lily's cheek, his voice contrite though his smirk was anything but. "And here he is. Remus Lupin, I presume. It's good to meet you."

Remus took the hand that was offered him and they shook. James looked almost exactly as he did in the picture above the mantle--messy black curls, friendly hazel eyes, and a mouth quick to smile. He had been boyishly charming next to Sirius Black's roguish good looks, a nice contrast then that had matured and sharpened with age. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. I'm glad to meet you, too."

"You must call me James. You were in the same year as us, yes? Ravenclaw. They nearly beat us in seventh year. It was a close call, I think. Your captain was Ashtar Pavarti, I think."

"Not everyone cared about Quidditch, James," Lily scolded as she pushed him to sit at the table and planted a kiss on his messy head.

"Of course they did. How could you even say such a thing? Sirius'd disown you if he heard you talk like that."

"Get on now," Lily said. She swatted at James' shoulder as she turned to retrieve the kettle of tea. 

Remus felt the stirrings of envy for this happy home. He had never expected it for himself, never looked for it--a partner to share his day with, to commiserate or to laugh with. He tried not to think about it and was usually successful enough but there was something to James and Lily that made him remember his first crush, his first halting kisses, and then the emptiness when he'd drawn himself away, too afraid of rejection for what he was to make a real go with anyone. Lily disturbed his thoughts as she offered to refill his cup, but he smiled and shook his head no.

"Of course," she said. "I've kept you long enough. Will you take the position, Remus? Please say that you will."

"I think I'd like it very much, actually."

"Excellent. As we said in our owl, there's a cottage in the woods, near enough the house but you'd have your privacy. You could move in this weekend if you'd like. You did say you were available immediately."

"I am, yes, though if you wouldn't mind, could I take possession on Monday morning and start with Harry that afternoon? It's only that I did have something planned this weekend."

"Of course, if you prefer."

Remus stood and gathered his cloak about him, taking up his cane. Lily stood with him, pressing James back into his chair when he would rise, too. Remus suddenly hated to leave the quiet coziness of the Potters’ kitchen. Harry was peeking around the corner again, his eyes on his dad this time, and James reached out his hand to him. The gesture made Remus homesick for the family he had been denied since his own father died. It made him sad but also hopeful that perhaps he'd finally found a situation that would bring him some measure of happiness, at least for a little while. He gave his goodbyes quickly around the sudden and unexpected lump in his throat and stepped through the fireplace already eager for his return and the start of his new job.


	2. Chapter 2

Standing in the shadows beneath a great portrait shrouded behind curtains on the second floor of the Black mansion, the thief began to think that breaking into Grimmauld Place was actually more daring than the Gringotts job. It had been harder to plan, harder to execute, to be sure, and he was equally sure that being caught would have more severe consequences. A trap for thieves at Gringotts would have meant death, but being caught here likely meant being destroyed wholly--slowly, painfully, especially if it was the matriarch, Walburga, who caught him. He had tried to make sure that wouldn't happen, the last of his savings going to pay off old Mundungus Fletcher. Old Dung had fallen onto hard times since the war, but he’d owed the thief a favor and so had given him what information he could. It had been enough to get him inside.

There was no telling where the scroll would be hidden, though he suspected it had to be amongst the youngest son's possessions. The Blacks were one of the oldest Wizarding families, but they were falling apart, the old allegiances dissolved in the war and, by all accounts, the eldest son was uninterested in rebuilding what his father had once maintained. Lord Voldemort had sought their support and had almost gained it through Orion before his death. Orion had been too old to fight but had offered up his sons out of blood loyalty. Regulus and Sirius had had other ideas, though. They had loyalty to one another, and Sirius to James Potter, and all three of them to Albus Dumbledore. In the end, Sirius had been too rebellious, too open to make a good spy and so had sided openly with the Order of the Phoenix, but Regulus had fit the bill nicely.

They had actually been friends once, the thief and Regulus, long before Regulus' death. It was how he knew Regulus' history, knew he had the scroll, though Regulus hadn't known at the time it had come into his possession. In fact, the thief hadn't known either until he'd put together half-remembered discussions. Regulus had laughed, the thief remembered, though he'd been as evasive as ever, pleased with whatever he'd done and then it had made sense later--his death, the way he'd been murdered. The murderers had been searching for the scroll, certain Regulus had it, and they had been right.

At the top of the stairs, the thief paused next to the macabre display of the house elf heads, listening. The house was silent. In front of him there were two rooms, one door with _R. A. B._ elegantly engraved on a gold plate--Regulus--and the other with a hand-printed sign that read _Keep out! This means you, Reg._ Sirius. The thief grinned. He'd known Sirius at school, too, though they hadn't been friends. He'd been a prankster, Sirius, along with James Potter. They'd been wild, lovely boys.

The thief turned away from the door and his memories, toward Regulus' room. He had work to do and again, there was no time for nostalgia. There was only one more scrolls to find after this before he could destroy them all and finally avenge his father's murder.

***

Sirius had only been back for a few days, his trip to Oslo taking longer than he'd planned but resulting in a new seeker for his team and a few weeks' affair with a charming Russian Wizard. He'd thought maybe it was finally safe for him to return to Sunday dinner at the Potters with only a bit of ribbing from Lily about his supposed Gryffindor courage. James had only just laughed at him, offering no help at all until Lily had finally left them in front of the fire in James' study with drinks, peace, and promises that dinner wouldn't be too late.

A lull in the talk about Quidditch had settled over them and Sirius settled deeper into his chair, happier than he was willing to admit out loud to being back. James let him sit in silence, knowing, as James always seemed to, that there was something on his mind--something he'd come to eventually. James was kind like that, though Sirius still worried that he would hit the limit of James' good nature and patience one day

"So the new tutor is working out, then?" Sirius finally asked, breaking their silence.

"Better than we could have hoped for, actually."

"He's certainly stayed longer than the rest."

"He's different--smart--an intriguing man, actually. You'll meet him at dinner."

"Inviting the help?"

James snorted into his drink. "Don't be a snob."

"I'm not. I think it's delightful. Mother made all our tutors eat in the kitchen with the house elves. She didn't want to see them."

"Your mother would. It took Lily weeks to talk Remus into joining us for Sunday dinners. He's terribly shy, though once he opens up a bit you discover how well-versed he is."

"A proper Ravenclaw, then."

"Very much so. He's become a good friend to both Lily and I but the difference in Harry is amazing."

"That's good to hear. I know you were worried."

"We were. We hated to think that maybe what happened--the night it happened..." Sirius watched as James struggled with the memory of the night his family had been attacked. James had nearly lost both Lily and Harry, and in the turmoil, it was only some days later that it was discovered Peter had gone missing, was presumed dead. James still felt guilty for that, Sirius knew, but there'd been so much happening--too much. That's the way war had been for the foot soldiers. "We were afraid it caused some sort of damage. That it was more than just high spirits."

"He's all right, though?"

"Yeah, I think so. Remus thinks so, which is reassuring."

"So you're keeping him."

"Harry? I think so. We've both grown terribly fond of him despite his inability to keep his room clean."

"Prat. The tutor."

"Absolutely."

Sirius didn't say anything right away, only just sat still and quiet, biting at his thumbnail. A log collapsed in the fire, cracking and sending up a shot of sparks before Sirius finally found his voice again. "I've heard things about him, James."

"Have you been checking up on my tutor?"

"I'm protecting my family."

James leaned forward and patted Sirius on the knee. He was smiling--not mad, then, and Sirius dropped his shoulders in relief.

"What did you hear?" James asked.

"That he's a werewolf, but I figured that was a fairy story. Reg and I used to say worse about our tutors."

"Anything else?"

"There's a big question mark around where he was during the war. No one's heard of him, no one remembers him."

"Is that your real concern?"

"Yeah."

"So you think Professor Dumbledore would recommend a werewolf and a Death Eater as Harry's teacher?"

"No, of course not."

James looked at him for a long moment, a smile still on his lips. Sirius remembered that look from when they were boys and he was waiting for Sirius to catch up, to catch on to some idea he'd had. James didn't wait long. "He is a werewolf, as it happens."

"What?"

"But he wasn't aligned with Voldemort. Albus trusts him, so he had to be on our side."

"Wait," Sirius said, holding his hand up to stop the flow of James' words. He was quite sure he hadn't heard him correctly. "He's a werewolf?"

"This is just between you and me, Sirius. You can't tell anyone."

"I wouldn't." Sirius bristled at the thought that James felt he even had to remind Sirius, but James still had that look in his eyes. "I won't," Sirius protested again, but more quietly now.

"He's registered, you can see the mark on his arm so it's not really a secret. The Ministry burned it there, you know. All our advances in magic and they brand fellow Wizards as if they're animals, as if those bitten had any choice." James stopped, glanced up at Sirius and then back down to the whiskey in his hands. He drank it back, grimacing at the taste, and then set it down on the table between them before standing up to pace in front of the fire. Sirius suspected that James had a whole tirade going on in his head, one he'd probably been forced to give more than once.

"If he's registered, then other people know, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You've had trouble?"

"A bit. Families are strongly encouraged not to hired werewolves. We had a visit from a Ministry man who gave us the name of some agencies who could provide, in their words, more suitable services." James leaned against the mantle, staring into the flames for a minute. "Did you know that Harry's actually reading now?"

"Is he?"

"He wouldn't settle to it before. We had tried everything but he hated it. He's rarely without a book now. And he's come along in maths and his handwriting’s improved--you had to see that in owls he's sent. He's bright, we always knew that, but it was so hard to watch him struggle."

"He doesn't struggle with Lupin."

"No. There are no more tantrums, no more struggling with bedtime. It's been a relief for us now that everything isn't such a constant fight. Our marriage is stronger for it. We're not giving Remus up. I don't even care if he does start eating the villagers."

Sirius barked out a laugh and James turned to him, grinning.

"So now you know, and I told you because you're the closest thing I have to a brother.”

"So you trust him.”

"Implicitly. Look, even if you do think I've gone 'round the bend for hiring a werewolf, I don't want you to worry, at least not about Remus. I told you he was registered. He spends the full moon in a Ministry detention center for his safety and everyone else's. And since that's the only time he's dangerous, it's fine."

"All right."

"And as far as the war, I can't imagine him having fought on either side, though I suspect Dumbledore found a use for him. I haven't asked. You'll meet him later and see. He's the mildest mannered person I've ever known."

"You do realize that you sound like you're in love with him."

It was James' turn to laugh now. "Maybe a bit. He'll be the only one of our friends that I tell you to stay away from."

"Now I know you're in love with him. You've only given me that warning once before and then you married her."

"Best decision in my entire life. Hiring Remus might be the second." James settled back into his chair, well pleased and well settled. "C'mon. Tell me how Walburga is getting along." James asked, drawing out her name.

"As miserable as ever." Sirius grimaced, still smarting from his visit to his mother's home earlier in the day. Their relationship had never been easy, her disappointment in him overwhelming at times, but with both his father and brother dead, he felt compelled every so often to try to be what she wanted--what she expected. It never lasted long, just as it hadn't when he was a teenager, and he always seemed to end up on James' doorstep, a bit battered from the experience. Still, the thought of his mother did bring to mind something that had been nagging at Sirius for some time. "Oi, James. Do you remember that break-in at Gringotts some months back?"

"Of course I do. Mad Eye brings it up at every staff meeting."

"So you've never caught the thief."

"No."

"Did you ever have a suspicion about who it might be?"

"Someone very clever," James began as he sat back into his chair. "Someone with an agenda, since whoever it was left money, jewelry, things that could have been easily sold on the black market. They were after something specific, and they knew where to find it."

"Were there ever any other break-ins reported?"

"No. The Yaxleys didn't want us to know about theirs either. We only found out because it was Gringotts. There was no hiding it. Are you about to tell me of another?"

"Can this just be between you and me?"

"If you want."

"I wouldn't care, but mother tried to forbid me to say anything even to you--especially to you, actually."

"Are you saying that Grimmauld Place was burgled?”

"It's likely that it would have gone unnoticed, except that mother interrupted him."

"She didn't stun the bugger?"

"Attempted to. She's sure it was a man, though outside of that she saw nothing of him. He was covered in a cloak and scarf." Sirius paused, tenting his fingers as he considered his next words. His mother had been quite upset--angry, not afraid--deigning to floo him, which he couldn’t ever remember her having done before. She had wanted him to come home immediately, bent on chasing this poor fellow through the streets of London if necessary. As she couldn't immediately determine anything had been taken and she positively did not want the Ministry involved, Sirius had refused. There were strict boundaries between them to maintain or he would be lost to her will, he knew. Telling James any part of this was part of that, especially in the things his mother considered most secret. "He was in Regulus' room."

"What? Why?"

"I can't imagine. She's kept it as a shrine, you know, and I think the thought of it being violated is what upset her more than the idea of someone making off with her silver."

"Do you know what was stolen?"

"Nothing, as far as I could tell, though maybe some papers if he had kept any there. His school trunk had been opened."

"Pried?"

"No, just opened as if the person had a key."

"Could he have?"

"No. Just like he couldn't have just _walked_ into Grimmauld Place. To say my father and brother were security conscious is like saying I like Quidditch a bit. They were obsessive. I don't think I could have gotten into the trunk."

"But she doesn't know what was stolen."

"No."

There was a soft knock on the door and then Harry stuck his head in, his eyes lighting up when he saw Sirius. Sirius put his glass down and opened his arms, standing, bending to scoop Harry up to give him a hug. "Hello Harry. You've grown again."

"Too big to hold like we used to," James said.

"Are you staying for dinner, Sirius?" Harry asked.

"I thought I might."

"Mum says dinner's ready. Did you know I have a new tutor?"

"I might have heard something about him."

"This afternoon he showed me and mum how volcanoes work in the clearing by the woods."  
"In the clearing?"

"It wasn't a _real_ volcano, Sirius, only just something done up to look like one but it exploded and had lava and everything."

"Did he now?" James asked. "He said he'd let me see, too."

"This was just a test one. To make sure it worked."

"And did it?"

Harry nodded his head so that his wild mop of hair fell into his eyes. "He let me help with the potion. I did everything right, he said."

"Excellent, Harry. Go on and tell your mum we'll be right down."

Sirius put Harry down and watched him run from the room. "He really has grown."

"Like a weed,” James sighed. “Lily's had to charm his shoes twice so far since the summer so they wouldn't pinch his toes."

"I also see the real reason you like this Lupin fellow. If he's willing to blow things up--"

"More than willing." At the top of the stairs, James stopped suddenly and Sirius nearly ran into him. "Before we go down, Sirius, there's something I should tell you."

"About your live-in werewolf?"

"About Violeta, actually."

"Has she been invited?"

"Of course she has. She and Lily are still working on the manuscript for a new Potions textbook."

"How's that going?"

"Really well, actually. It's going to be better than anything we used in school. But listen, about her--she rather fancies Remus."

"Oh, I see. This fellow rates a set-up while you warn all your other friends off me."

"We don't warn them off. We couldn't possibly. People find you irresistible for some reason."

"Stunning good looks," Sirius began, ticking off his fingers. "Sparkling wit. Charming personality."

"Yes, yes. I read the article about the Wizarding world's most eligible bachelor as well. If only they'd lived with you for seven years."

"Eight, if you count the year before you got married."

"We simply caution them on the dangers of dating Sirius Black." James pushed a hand through his hair irritably at Sirius' teasing. "And there's no _we_ by the way. This is Lily's idea. She doesn't like the thought of Remus being on his own. She thinks he'd do well with a wife."

"Violeta?"

"She seems interested, though I don't know that she's really his type."

"Does she know about him?"

"I imagine so."

"So Lily doesn't mind it for me? That I'm alone."

"Rarely so; besides, I thought you liked being alone--the lone wolf and all that."

"The lone wolf? How very 70s of you."

"If you want us to set you up with someone--"

"I really don't."

"Then why all the fuss?"

"I don't know."

"Is it because she was in Slytherin? That didn't seem to put you off."

"What? No. I can't believe you brought up the idea of house loyalty. We're not still in school."  
"Is it because he's a werewolf?"

"No. Yes." Sirius jammed his hands in his pockets, unable to meet James' eyes. "I've never met one before."

"Well, tonight you will have done, and if you're not half in love with him yourself by dessert, I'll be surprised. I'm not a good judge, of course, but Lily tells me he's quite fit."

"So Lily's in love with him as well?"

"Quite. I only mentioned it at all because I know you and Violeta--"

"James. It's thoroughly over. I've no interest in the girl at all. I've certainly no interest in being someone's husband. In fact, I'm not interested in seeing anyone at all for a bit."

***

Remus had been convinced he wouldn't be as welcome at the Potters’ Sunday dinners as Lily promised. There were always a lot of Ministry people who came along, she'd said, as well as friends and family, some who knew he was a werewolf or would suss it out quickly enough, even if it wasn't for the registration number that sometimes refused to be covered by long sleeves and jumpers. He was also convinced, having lived alone for so long, that he was happy enough being on his own, and that he wouldn't make good company--that he couldn't make friends. He'd been happy to be proved wrong, though he certainly wasn't telling Lily that, lest she decide he enjoyed her and Molly Weasley's matchmaking attempts.

Violeta was a nice enough girl, pretty and smart. She didn't seem to care that he was a werewolf or poor, and Remus thought that maybe he was being ungrateful by being disinterested. Not that he could help it. He thought it would be a greater unkindness to feign something he didn't--couldn't--feel toward her. Especially when his indifference didn't extend to the man sitting at James' right hand side at the head of the table.

Sirius was just as handsome as he had been as a boy, older of course--they all were--and hardened some by the war. There was still a sparkle in his eyes, same as before, though then the curve of his lips had held mischief rather than the doubt and suspicion he'd shown when James had introduced them a couple of Sundays before. Remus hadn't blamed him. He knew Sirius' war record, knew--as the entire Wizarding world knew--that he'd been a hero, though heroes rarely thought of themselves that way, and so it was with Sirius. Besides, as a werewolf, Remus was used to cold greetings and misgivings.

It'd quickly been replaced though, over the last few weeks, by a kind of reluctant friendship through James and Lily. Though often, just when Remus thought that Sirius was seeing straight through him--as if he didn't really exist, just like when they'd been in school, then Remus would find himself caught in Sirius' evaluating gaze, as if he were being stripped bare and laid open for whatever nefarious purpose those piercing gray eyes held. It was during those rare times that he'd try not to squirm or look away self-consciously since he himself was all too aware of Sirius Black and he felt sure that Sirius couldn't mean anything in return. It embarrassed him--painfully so--that just seeing Sirius made him feel like the same schoolboy who could look but never touch, and left him with so much desire that he was nearly breathless each time it happened. Remus could have gone on happily like that for the rest of his life--having those scant moments of feeling as though Sirius had struck a match in the core of his being with just one spare look.

It happened again a month after they'd met when Remus, finished with his dinner, was distracted, struggling to keep his attention on Violeta and their conversation while James and Sirius held court. She laughed a little too brightly at a comment he made, leaning into him with her soft hand on his arm, and he withdrew, trying to be kind--trying to fish an excuse from his pockets to leave, and quickly. He looked to his hosts, meaning to form the words of goodbye, but found Sirius openly staring at him, unmistakably so. Remus lost his voice, suddenly willing to stay precisely where he was, and curled his hand into a fist around his napkin on the table as Violeta continued to prattle on. He considered himself saved from making a complete prat of himself when Molly Weasley spoke up, breaking through the flow of Violeta's words.

"Remus, I do wish you'd come to the Burrow and see what you can do about the boggart," Molly said from where she sat across from him with her two youngest children on either side of her. Ron was comparing chocolate frog cards with Harry, and they both looked up, keenly interested, when Molly spoke. "With Arthur gone to Romania to get Bill settled, it's giving the children an awful fright."

"Of course, Molly. Arthur mentioned it before he left and I forgot," Remus said as he quickly stood, reaching for his cane, though it sounded to him like it was more than the children who were afraid. Whatever the case, he was glad for the excuse to escape. "I'll go immediately. In the grandfather clock you said?"

"Can I go, Remus?" Harry abandoned his cards and raced around the end of the table to tug on Remus' sleeve.

"Me too, mum, if Harry goes? It was only Ginny who was scared."

"I was not, Ronald Weasley!"

"You were too!"

"I should be allowed to go, too, mum, if Ron goes."

"I don't mind," Remus said, interrupting what could become a blazing row between to the two Weasley children if they weren't distracted. "At least if your mothers say it's all right."

"Please, mum? A boggart!" Harry ran to Lily's side. "Remus said I might watch the next time."

"Professor Lupin, Harry," Lily said, laughing as Harry fell to his knees and raised his clasped hands. "Oh go on, Molly, or we'll never hear the end of it."

"Oh, alright. Since it's Remus, but not you Ginny." The boys gave twin triumphant shouts and ran to get their cloaks as Ginny's face turned into a storm cloud and she crossed her freckled arms over her chest. "You've only just got over your cold. I'll not have you going out into the night air."

"Mum!"

"No arguments."

"May we apparate?" Harry asked Remus, meaning he wanted to do a side-along apparation with Remus, as they had done when visiting the museums in London.

"No, Harry," Lily said. "Professor Lupin can't take both of you. You'll have to go by floo."

"I think I'll go as well, if Professor Lupin doesn't mind." Remus hands froze as he was fastening his cloak around his neck when Sirius spoke. "It'll be quicker than floo if we each take one of the boys."

"Of course, if you'd like," Remus said quietly, kicking himself for how breathless he sounded, as if he were a young Witch being asked out for the first time. He cleared his throat and finished fastening his cloak as he told himself--sternly--that Sirius was simply curious to see how Remus, leaning heavily on his cane and likely looking as if a strong wind might blow him over, would expel a boggart. Suddenly self-conscious in his faded, secondhand jumper and trousers gone shiny in the knees, Remus stood up straighter and forced himself to look away from Sirius. "And when we get back, Ginny, we'll see if there isn't a book you'd like to borrow, all right? I have a new set of fables you might like."

"I wanted to read that next!" Harry said loudly before James cleared his throat, giving him a pointed look. Harry's cheeks turned red, embarrassed to be reprimanded in front of both Remus _and_ Sirius, Remus wagered, especially by how quickly he gave in. "I suppose it'd be fair if you got to first, though, Ginny."

"All right, boys, let's be off. Harry, why don't you go with your godfather. Ready, boys?"

Remus reached for Ron's hand and as they stepped outside before apparating, landing a moment later in the lane near the Weasley's house. It was quiet, the sun only having just set, and they didn't speak as they walked. Harry still held on tight to Sirius' hand and Ron walked close beside Remus, both he and Harry clearly nervous now that they were about to come face-to-face with a real boggart.

Remus was nervous for his own reasons, mostly having to do with Sirius being so close, close enough that Remus could smell his aftershave. He smelled good, and Remus was so busy scolding himself about being too old for crushes, no matter how attractive the man, and especially considering all that had happened since they both left Hogwarts. Remus didn't normally hold romantic notions, having had his heart hardened through the war and the injustices that he suffered--and still suffered--as a werewolf. Still, it was a sharp (and if Remus was being honest, welcome) reminder that he was still human, despite some people's insistence to the contrary. He couldn't help but notice how broad Sirius' shoulders were and how well he wore his Muggle clothing, and how his black hair gleamed in the moonlight. He couldn't quite dispel the desire to tug it free from the thin red string that Sirius had used to tie it back and watch as it dusted his collar. So caught up was Remus in the kind of ridiculous thoughts he assumed he'd finished having as a lad--and chastising himself for having them in the first place--that he barely noticed when they'd arrived at the Burrow, much less that the wards weren't right. It wasn't until he put his hand on the door knob that he recognized it.

"There's unfamiliar magic here," he whispered as he took a step back, pushing Ron more firmly behind him. He drew his wand and closed his eyes, trying to sense something--anything--that would explain why the hairs on the back of his neck had risen.

"A family member?" Sirius asked.

"Charlie and Percy are at Hogwarts, the twins are with family in Cheshire and Arthur took Bill to Romania. They won't be back until Tuesday. This is..." Remus looked down at Ron and Harry who were looking up at him with big, nervous eyes. "No worries, boys," he said with false cheer. "Stay right here with your Uncle Sirius, Harry, Ron, yes? I'll just pop inside and have a look, shall I?"

"You promised about the boggart, professor," Harry said, and Remus had to smile at the boy's bravado.

"You're absolutely right, Harry. I won't forget." Remus rested his hand on Harry's unruly hair for just a second before he pushed Ron a bit closer to Sirius then went inside the house.

He searched through the rooms quickly, his nose wrinkling at the faint, harsh scent of brimstone prevailing through the house. It tugged at some memory in a dark corner of Remus' mind but he tried not to let himself linger over it, though it became harder still when he entered the kitchen. There on the table amid the dishes and books and abandoned art projects was a tattered picture pinned with a knife, the spell on it weak so that the people barely moved. There were well worn creases criss-crossing its surface, as if it had been repeatedly folded and carried around in a pocket. Remus recognized many of the people in it as former Order of the Phoenix members--Gideon and Fabian Prewitt, the Potters and Sirius, Alice and Frank Longbottom, among others. He wasn't pictured, of course--he had never even attended one of their meetings, not ever. There was one other member he recognized, someone who reportedly never missed a meeting but whose face was scratched out of this photo: Peter Pettigrew. On the back of the photo was a crude drawing of a snake chasing its tail. The magic here was strong--fresh--and the meaning was clear.

Remus whispered the words _Finite Incantatum_ and watched as the movement of the snake slowed and stopped. It was sloppy magic, crudely done, as if with a borrowed or stolen wand. There was little point in trying to discover who had created it, but Remus muttered the spell anyway. Nothing. He picked it up and walked back to the door. The boys were standing close together in Sirius' shadow from the light spilling from the door. Sirius' eyes were bright silver discs in the moonlight and he gripped his wand at his side. He said nothing when Remus came out.

"Whoever it was has gone," Remus said. He held out his hand to show the picture to Sirius but held it high enough so that the boys couldn't see. "They left this."

Sirius took it and looked it over front and back, staring for a long time at the snake. "A message, and a not a pleasant one. For Arthur, I suppose."

"Perhaps. Though as the last of the Prewitts..." Remus trailed off, troubled, and took back the picture before he closed his fingers around it firmly and put it into his pocket. It would be best to give it to Professor Dumbledore, he decided.

"Are you ready, boys?" Remus said again as he withdrew his wand once more and took a step back inside. He was more than a little surprised when Sirius put his hand on Remus’ shoulder to stop him. 

"What are you doing?" Sirius asked.

"It's perfectly safe for the boys to come inside. I've been all through the house, and I did tell Molly I would take care of the boggart."

"The boggart?" Sirius gaped at Remus, and Remus couldn't believe he was still thinking about how handsome Sirius was.

"Whoever was here is long gone,” Remus said, more firmly this time. “And I did promise."

Remus went back indoors, bringing up the lights with a flick of his wand. He stopped just inside the threshold and looked back to Sirius and the boys, who were looking up at Sirius, clearly wanting to follow Remus. Finally Sirius allowed it, huffing out a breath before he led the boys through the doorway. Sirius, his wand still held tight in his hand, moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Remus in front of the old grandfather clock.

"Don't be alarmed, boys," Remus said after a few moments of silence, and the clock gave a heave in response. "It's best to approach these things with a group, if you can. Do you remember why, Ron?"

Ron looked up, stunned to have been asked the question, and then straightened up, clearing his throat. "Because it'll get confused?"

"Exactly. When I open the casing, there will be a moment when the boggart won't know who to land on when it sees all four of us here."

"It takes the shape of your worst fear, doesn't it, professor?"

"Exactly, Harry, but don't worry. I'll step forward and it'll settle on me quick enough. Now, on the count of three. One. Two. Three!"

Remus opened the casing with a flick of his wand and the boggart spun confusedly before Remus stepped forward as he had promised. He raised his wand, the _Riddikulus_ spell on his lips as he prepared to envision the sight he expected to see--the moon transformed into a balloon that would quickly lose its air. He had performed this bit of magic dozens of times and he raised his wand almost lazily, conscious of Sirius by his side and the boys watching him. The boggart spun and stopped, building into the form of a man, and Remus' hand began to shake as he recognized the face in front of him. Rabastan Lestrange.

Remus hesitated. The face before him was handsome, with bright blue eyes and full lips curled into something that hinted the cruel sneer they so often formed, just as they had often done in life. Remus was transported back to the night he had been captured, just before the turn of the war, and tortured by Rabastan and his brother, Rodolphus. He'd not been to an Order of Phoenix meeting, no, but he had worked for their cause nonetheless. He'd barely survived, his knee shattered along with his nerves, and the cane he'd carried ever since clattered to the floor as he fought to remember the word of the spell--its tone and inflection, to find some way to make Rabastan ridiculous.

In the end, Sirius stepped in front of him and the image of Rabastan swirled and faded, spinning into something that Remus couldn't make out--a dark haired phantom, its mouth stretched wide as if to swallow them all whole. It never gained clearer shape before Sirius spoke the spell in a clear, strong voice. The sound of it shook Remus from his trance and he shook his head violently, raising his wand again. Together, they wrestled the boggart into the box Molly had told Remus he should use and trapped it there. For a long moment, they were all silent, staring at the crate.

"I'm sorry about that," Remus whispered and then cleared his throat. He looked at Sirius and then away, embarrassed. "It usually takes another form. I wasn't expecting that."

"Was that Rabastan Lestrange?"

"Unfortunately."

"He's dead."

"Of that I'm quite sure." Remus put his wand away and pushed his shaking hand through his hair. He'd killed Rabastan himself just outside a small village some years ago. Even after all that had happened, he hadn't meant to hurt Rabastan--hadn't gone there to commit that particular bit of violence, and he prided himself on having done it out of protection, not revenge. Remus found that he wanted to explain this to Sirius, to make him understand, but stopped as he caught the look on Harry's ever curious face as he stood clutching Remus' cane.

"The picture reminded me of things best forgotten," Remus said as he took back the cane, grateful for the moment to have it to lean on. He looked down at his knuckles white on the handle before he shook himself and forced a smile to his lips, even if it was a bit grim.

"Chocolate," he said into the silence, and pulled from the depth of some hidden pocket a chunk of Honeydukes, which he broke off, giving a piece first to Ron and Harry each before breaking another chunk in half and handing a share to Sirius before taking a bite himself. "Go on, boys. It'll help."

It took some minutes after to usher the boys back outside. They seemed to have finally found their voices again, the chocolate working its own magic to soothe and calm. Sirius had lifted the crate with the boggart and secured it outside and away from the house, and went to work once more at Remus' side to restore and reinforce the wards on the Burrow. This time Remus didn't let himself think of Sirius other than to admire the way the man handled the complicated spells, building and weaving their magic to prevent whoever had broken through from getting back in again. When they were finished, Remus forced himself to look after the boys, promising himself that when he was home--when he was alone in his cottage--then he could think of what had happened. Not before, and certainly not in front of anyone--not in front of Sirius. He had suffered enough, he'd decided, granting himself that at least.

"That was one of the bad men," Harry said as they walked back down the lane. He and Ron had been whispering to one another in that way little boys have, no longer afraid at all. It startled Remus that Harry might know who the Lestrange brothers had been. "Wasn't it, professor? One of those who fought for Him."

"Voldemort, Harry," Remus said, ignoring Sirius' look of surprise, though he must know that James had always taught Harry to say the name. Remus supposed it was still rare to find anyone outside the Order willing to say it as well.

"Yes, but it was, wasn't it?"

"It was just a boggart, though, remember Harry; you, too, Ron," Remus said, wondering for a moment if maybe he was saying it more for himself. "What you saw wasn't real."

"But that was what you're most afraid of, that man."

"Not usually, Harry. The boggart usually takes a very different form, but tonight, yes. I was reminded of a very dark time and should have probably heeded your godfather's words but--" 

For a minute, Remus didn't go on, just leaned heavily on his cane while the children and Sirius watched him. He felt pale--faded and vulnerable in the moonlight, his eyes dark and distant. Harry reached out to put his hand into Remus' and Remus smiled sadly at Harry, grateful for that bit of comfort. "C'mon, boys. I'll take you home and then come back for the boggart. I know a small, abandoned cottage where he'll be quite happy."

"Can boggarts be happy?" Ron asked.

"Well, not as happy as when they're terrorizing someone, but they do like small, dark places, so maybe it'll be a good home."

"Maybe we should leave it for the morning," Sirius said, the first he's spoken since they were inside the house. "I'm sure Molly will feel safer if she and the children stay at Godric's Hollow tonight."

"You're right, of course, Sirius." Remus forced himself to meet Sirius' eyes, expecting to find pity--he was used to that--and certainly none of the burning intensity that would catch him so by surprise each time it happened. What he found instead was open curiosity, and that, he thought, was more disconcerting than nearly anything else that had happened that night. Remus felt himself blush under the intensity of Sirius' gaze and looked away, down at his feet and then to Harry. "Are you ready to go?" He asked, once more forcing a smile, and Harry nodded.

They apparated back and Remus was glad--relieved--when Sirius sent the boys inside the house, warning them to keep quiet--that he would explain things to their mums--before they ran off. Remus turned to go as well, feeling that perhaps he should go and speak with James, Lily, and Molly himself but willing to misunderstand Sirius' intention. He felt a bit desperate to be alone for a bit, to be on his own in case he did something inane like cry. He'd had enough of embarrassing himself in front of Sirius. He only made it a few steps down the path toward his cottage before Sirius spoke, stopping him.

"Are you all right?" Sirius asked.

"Fine. I'm fine." Remus opened and closed his mouth. He was anything but, though he couldn't begin to find the words to explain that to Sirius. "I would have never taken the boys had I known that would happen."

"I know."

"I suppose I should go inside and talk to--"

"No, I will. You look spent."

"I'm fine," Remus said again. "Just--"

"Remus, during the war--" Sirius spoke in a rush, taking a step toward Remus, his hand outstretched before he stopped, widened his stance and put his hands on his hips. He looked uncharacteristically hesitant, and Remus drank up the sight, once again reminded of the boy Sirius had once been--brash and bold yet curiously awkward when he thought no one was watching. Remus was always watching, even now.

"It's complicated," Remus said, forestalling a conversation that he still wasn't sure he should be having even after all these years. He felt he had already said too much, already given too much away. "I'll speak with Professor Dumbledore tomorrow. About the picture."

"Of course." Sirius stared at him for another moment, his eyes soft, the concern evident, and that, too, was unexpected. "You must be tired. Go on. I'll explain things here."

"Thank you. I'm glad--I'm glad you were there tonight. Good night, Sirius."

"Good night."

Remus walked slowly down the path toward his cottage, leaning more heavily on his cane than he normally did. When he looked back, just as the path curved deeper into the woods, he found that Sirius was still watching him. He raised his hand impulsively before catching himself, and was more than surprised when Sirius waved back.


	3. Chapter 3

It was noon, and the London Museum of Wizardry was filled shoulder to shoulder with tourists and students. The thief had come here often over the last few years, wandering the halls and exhibits, losing himself in the artifacts of Wizards past. It had been a favorite place of his father's and sometimes, on the rare occasion when it was quiet, he could almost feel his father walking with him. Today, however, he had a mission.

In the early days after the war, the museum had become a repository to rival the Ministry of Magic's stores of what hadn't been hoarded or stolen during the dark times. The labyrinthine rooms in the basement held the overflow of the collection under protection as scholars attempted to make order of the chaos of the war, returning items to the survivors when they could but otherwise keeping the items safe. The thief had long suspected that one of the scrolls he sought could be found there. Once he had this last one, then they could all be destroyed, though he dreaded that particular task, knowing it was his father's life's work.

He walked carefully through the maze of hallways, his shoes echoing off the mosaic floors. There was no sneaking around this time--he'd been invited to visit, to be guided--but it didn't make him feel easier. In fact, it was worse knowing he was abusing the trust that had been placed in him. It couldn't be avoided. The mistake at Grimmauld Place had cost him time and disturbed the veil of secrecy that he had long relied upon. Those who remained loyal to Lord Voldemort knew he existed now--they knew what he sought. He could only hope that they remained in the dark about the purpose and power contained in the scrolls. He had no doubt that if they possessed them, it wouldn't take them long to learn how to use them. In hiding them away, they certainly had known they were valuable. It wasn't a chance he could take, so he was forced to take others instead.

The tour took nearly three hours, and the thief followed along, pleased that he at least didn't have to feign interest. The work the museum had undertaken was interesting and vital to the preservation of the history of Wizards and Witches. The middle-aged Witch in crepe-soled shoes who served as their guide was a methodical soul, who began with their scant collection from the time of Merlin and the druids, saving the materials from the last war until last. To the very end, she was conscious of her audience, and the thief appreciated her thoroughness as she showed him some of the more mysterious relics, his father's scroll amongst them. He suffered another pang of guilt at knowing that if it hadn't been for their acquaintance, she would have never allowed him so much access or time. That he'd been lucky. Still, he eased himself with the knowledge that this was his last scroll to find, the last one to take and then it would be over. 

His luck held out for a bit longer, though it wasn't easy to distract her. He managed it with a whispered spell and a discrete flick of his wand that sent a teetering stack of archival boxes spilling from their shelf. In the chaos, the thief pocketed the scroll and then rushed to help her, though she managed the mess easily with a wave of her own wand. It was then that she realized how much time she'd spent and they laughed together before each made their own excuses and good-byes. She never noticed his small theft, and the collections from the war were in such chaos that he was confident it would likely go unnoticed for months, too long to connect it with his visit.

He didn't linger now through the great hall of the museum but walked quickly toward the doors, eager to be home--to be safe again, to have the chance to plan his next move. He blamed that for his distraction.

"Professor Lupin?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Do you know those men?"

***

Sirius was in his office at the Quidditch pitch when the message came. James' patronus had shimmered to life in front of him, the hasty message faint, begging him to come. It had reminded him of the war, of the attacks, of that last night when Sirius thought he'd lost James and his family forever. Just like then, he'd apparated away immediately, but this time he landed in the alley nearest the museum in Hogsmeade, wand drawn. He found James there, firing off hexes and jinxes in quick succession at two Wizards in white robes opposite the street. Sirius was shocked to see the hoods of the Death Eaters, there in the middle of the day. For a moment, he stood stock still, too surprised to act until a hex whizzed past his ear, missing him by a hairsbreadth as it exploded in a shower of green sparks behind him. He saw then that it wasn't James who was their quarry but a man in a familiar old traveling cloak--Remus--and with him, Harry. Sirius was spurred on to action then, running to James' side as he wove his magic wordlessly.

The battle seemed to rage for hours but Sirius knew it could have only been seconds. It was hard to see through the haze of Remus' magic as he tried to protect Harry from the volley of malevolent curses. They fought bitterly until the Death Eaters evaporated with the pop of apparition as Aurors, answering James’ calls for help, arrived one by one. Sirius' last spell hit the wall above Remus and Harry, raining shards of brick around them and then all was quiet. Sirius could hear James as he breathed heavily, his wand arm still outstretched.

"Harry!" James called and Sirius realized he'd been saying it all along, crying out to his son, only Sirius hadn't heard through the buzz of his own adrenaline. Remus' protective shield shimmered then faltered, fading to nothing like a morning mist when the sun's finally come up. Harry stood and ran to his father, his face streaked with tears and blood, his t-shirt torn at the shoulder, and James caught him up into his arms. He was on his knees then, checking Harry over, finding him unharmed though scared.

Sirius knelt with James, his hand on Harry's head, listening as Harry stumbled over his words as he tried to explain to his dad what had happened. It was then that Sirius looked up, expecting to see Remus--expecting his calm presence--but found he still lay where he had fallen when he'd dropped his shields.

"Remus?" Sirius called but there was no answer from Remus. Sirius stood on shaky legs, his stomach roiling with fear. There had been too many lost in the war--lost to the Death Eaters--and Sirius couldn't bear the thought of Remus being their next victim. James had been right about Remus, of course he had been, Sirius thought irritably. James had always been the better judge of character, and now Remus had become a kind of friend to Sirius as well. Next to him, James caught Harry up into his arms again and Moody began to yell at his Aurors, rounding up the witnesses, while Sirius ran to Remus' side and knelt next to him. Feeling for a pulse and nearly collapsing in relief when he found the weak thrum in Remus' veins though his hand came away sticky with blood. He was already gathering Remus up when Moody barked at Sirius to take Remus to St. Mungo's, and that, too, was so horribly familiar from the dark days that they were gone before Moody could finish his sentence.

Hours later, Sirius was still at Remus' side in the hospital. Remus was unconscious but healing, a nurse with a thin face and a sharp nose had said. Sirius had answered her brusquely, still thrumming with anger at the way Remus had been treated when they had first arrived. Sirius had levied the full weight of his family's name, barking orders at any staff members who happened to be nearby and threatening to cut off generous funding if Remus wasn't seen to immediately. Sirius had no idea what sort of support his mother likely provided, having never had interest in the Black family legacy, but he imagined it must be vast by the private room they'd found themselves in and the nurse who hovered nearby though she clearly expected Remus to rise up at any moment and attack. When James had stopped by, he'd whistled low as he’d come into the room and told Sirius it was a good thing that Remus was still out, as he'd likely be embarrassed by the attention. James had offered to stay, but Sirius had turned him down and sent him home to be with Lily and Harry, recognizing what it had cost James to leave them at all that night. The fear that it was starting again--that his family was once again in danger--weighed heavily on them both.

Instead Sirius sat quietly and alone in the metal chair at Remus' bedside, the smell of antiseptic burning his nose. He tried to take shallow breaths through his open mouth and force his thoughts to something other than how much he hated hospitals. The last time he'd been inside St. Mungo’s had been when a man barely out of Hogwarts told him that there was nothing they could do for Regulus, that he had died within seconds of being struck in the chest by the curse his own cousin had conjured. That it was too late. If he thought on it for too long, he could remember how his mother had wailed and beat her hands on Sirius' chest, asking why Sirius hadn't protected his younger brother--why it hadn't been him instead. Sirius had stayed silent, asking himself the same questions.

Sirius stood and walked to the window, his hands buried deep inside his pockets. Far below him was Muggle London, and Sirius watched the lights from their cars and buses, tiny constellations of their own, as he pushed aside thoughts of his brother. Instead, he thought of how angry his mother would be when she discovered that when he had finally used the leverage of his name it was only to help a werewolf. He could practically hear her ragings already.

Sirius turned to look at where Remus slept still and pale, the color only just beginning to return to his cheeks from the blood replenisher potions he had been given. James was right; if Remus had been conscious through any of this, he would have been embarrassed, insisting he was fine even as he lay bleeding to death. They had only met a few times since that night at the Weasleys’--at James and Lily's Sunday dinners and again, only once, at a pub in London, where Remus had discussed some new bit of obscure Muggle relations legislation with James as easily as he had talked about Pudimore's chances of beating Sirius' team at Quidditch in their next match. Sirius found he liked Remus quite a lot, despite his own misgivings, especially as it was so very apparent that Remus had a knack for finding mischief. That Remus was quite fit, as James had promised, only added to his appeal, though Sirius really did try to keep his distance out of respect for James. He couldn’t help being fascinated by the man, though.

The nurse bustled in again, leaning over Remus' bedside to take his temperature and monitor his progress. She had barely raised her eyes to Sirius, clearly nervous, though whether it was because of Remus or Sirius himself, Sirius couldn’t say with more certainty than he would have earlier. He left her to her tasks, looking out the window again and then moving to straighten the room a bit--rearranging his cloak over the back of a chair and resettling Remus' cane. When he reached for Remus' cloak, a roll of old parchment fell from it and Sirius bent to pick it up, puzzling over it a bit when he recognized the runes for "life" and "the moon.” He unrolled it some more, frowning at the Greek letters he hadn't bothered to study since leaving school but remembering enough to know that this was part of a ritual of some sort. He stumbled through a little more of it before he realized the nurse was standing at his elbow, waiting quietly, and he rolled the parchment back up tightly.

"Has there been a change?" Sirius asked as he tapped the scroll against his open palm.

"He's much improved, Mr. Black. Only just sleeping now," the nurse said. "He should be waking soon."

"Will he be able to leave tonight, do you think?"

"That'll be for the doctor to say, sir, but I wouldn't be surprised if I were you if he had to stay until morning. If you don't mind my saying, sir, his kind generally--"

"I do mind, actually," Sirius said stiffly, cutting her off.

"As you please, sir." The nurse stood straight and tucked her wand back into her sleeve but said nothing more as she left the room.

"I suppose you're used to that," Sirius said out loud though Remus only just slept on. "Wretched thing to get used to." Sirius sat again, turning the parchment over in his hands. There was something familiar about it, some memory that tugged at a corner of his mind. He could almost hear Regulus laughing at him, _you don't have to know everything, Sirius. We already know how terribly clever you are._. Toward the end, they hadn't argued nearly as often as when they'd been boys, and Sirius had been proud of him. Losing him to the war had been awful.

Sirius twisted the page of parchment again, picking out the words he knew--or thought he knew: potion, return, death. The rune for life repeated itself again and again across the page, even to the edges, as if it wanted to carry on. He knew the writing wasn't Remus' clear, even hand and wondered what it meant--why Remus had it. What it was that danced at the edge of memory like the missing lyric to a song he'd heard a thousand times.

"Sirius?"

Sirius gave a start at the sound of Remus' voice and quickly shoved the parchment scroll back into a pocket of Remus' cloak. "You gave us a scare."

"Harry--" 

Sirius leaned forward to press Remus back against his pillows when he would sit up. "He's fine, thanks to you."

"I just--there was something so familiar about the smaller of the two."

"Do you know who it was?"

"I don't know." Sirius watched as Remus squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the palms of his hands over his face. "I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore."

"James has sent him a message. I imagine he'll be here soon. Do you remember anything? About your attacker, I mean."

"I couldn't see him well enough. We had just come out of the museum and they were on us. I barely had time to send a patronus." Remus let his hands drop to his sides on the bleached sheets. "Did James call you?"

"Yeah, and Moody, too. He thinks you might have injured one of them. There was blood there that wasn't yours."

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"No, it was over nearly as soon as I got there. James took Harry home to Lily. They're all fine."

"Are they very angry with me?"

"What? Of course not."

"I shouldn't have taken Harry with me. I just thought he would enjoy seeing the museum." Remus' voice trailed off and he looked away from Sirius, to the square patch of night sky they could see through the window. His eyes were weary, strained, as they had been the night the boggart took the shape of Rabastan, and Sirius wondered again about his role during the war. He was sure that Remus wouldn't do anything to hurt Harry--he could have done so at any moment over the past few months. It wasn't that, Sirius knew. Like James, he was positive now that Remus couldn't have fought on any other side but their own, if he'd fought at all.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sirius said, reaching out to put his hand on Remus' shoulder. "It wasn't your fault."

"If something should have happened to him… I should--"

"You should lie here and rest, yeah? He's safe for tonight, and the doctor said you needed to rest."

Remus nodded, suddenly docile beneath Sirius' hand, and they were quiet for a long time, long enough that Sirius' thoughts strayed again to the parchment scroll in Remus' cloak. He was startled when Remus spoke again.

"Thank you, Sirius."

"For what?"

"You must have said something or done something. I wouldn't have been treated otherwise."

"I suppose people haven't always been kind."

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't."

"I am. I doubted you at first, too, you know, though I'm ashamed of it now. James and Lily don't--no worries there. They both adore you."

"I--They've become like a family to me. I haven't had that in a long time. I wouldn't want to do anything to hurt them. Or you." Remus closed his eyes and swallowed, and Sirius watched the bob of his adam's apple. He hadn't moved his hand from Remus' shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"Rest now," he whispered, and in a few moments when Remus' breaths had evened out and when Sirius thought that maybe he'd fallen asleep again, he stroked his hand over Remus' hair.

***

Remus couldn't help but think back to the first time he'd been in the Potters’ kitchen and had expected at any moment to be expelled for who--or rather _what_ , he thought wryly--he was. Instead, he'd found a home and friends, the family he'd been so envious of and feared losing now. He leaned against the sink, the smell of the flowering athelas plant easing his mind, and he distracted himself by recounting its properties, a schoolboy's exercise that only partially blocked out the louder, angry voices of the men and women who had crowded into the kitchen as well.

It was only the evening after the attack at the museum and Remus' body still ached, though he fought not to show it. Dumbledore sat at the table between James and Arthur, and Remus wished they had had more time to talk before the meeting had started. The Longbottoms were there, as well as Moody, Sturgis Podmore, and several others who had been members of the Order of the Phoenix. Molly had ushered the children outside to play when she discovered Harry and Ron attempting to listen in, and it was good that she had, as what had begun as a civil discussion had quickly devolved.

They were afraid, and rightly so. After the attack on Remus and Harry, several people in the room had received messages, _portents_ , Moody had called them. They certainly all felt the threat.

"But why now?" James asked the room again. "And why Harry?"

"I'm not convinced Harry was the target, James," Professor Dumbledore said, and Remus tried to ignore the way that Professor Dumbledore looked at him over the rims of his half-moon glasses.

"But what about these pictures of the Order members? Don't you think they're related, Albus?" Arthur picked up the picture that had been left in his own kitchen before tossing it back onto the pile with the others--one from the Longbottoms’ wedding, another from a Christmas party at their first headquarters--all defaced in some way and all with the imprint of the snake on the back.

"They're not all Order members," Sturgis said from where he sat next to the fire. He crossed the room to pick up one of the pictures from the center of the pile. In it, a very young, very reluctant Remus skulked in the corner of the frame, his long hair falling into his eyes. It was the official Ministry of Magic photo taken from his file with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and over which his registration number had been scrawled. "His was the last to come, wasn't it. And he was there when Potter's boy was attacked."

"Just what, exactly, are you implying, Podmore?" James said, with a dangerous edge to his voice.

"How can we be sure of him?" Sturgis thumbed over his shoulder to where Remus stood, and Remus forced himself not to look away when James and the others looked over at him. "We all remember how it was during the war. Couldn't trust no one, could you? Now here comes a complete stranger--"

"That's not fair," Lily said, interrupting Sturgis and leaning forward with her elbow on the table so that she could point at him. "Remus and I were prefects together at school. He's not a stranger to me."

"But where was he during the war? And now he shows up here right when things start happening. Who's to say he didn't leave this to make himself look innocent?"

Remus bit his lip, still not sure how to respond, but was saved from having to as Dumbledore shook his head slightly to keep him quiet. Sirius caught the action as well, and looked from Dumbledore to Remus and back again before he rose from James' side to cross the room to join Remus at the sink. Remus was grateful to him. The mistrust was familiar but he could still feel his face heat up as some of the others in the room looked at him and he fought the urge to tug his sleeve more firmly down to hide the registration number on his wrist.

"I trust Remus," James said so firmly as if that alone would put paid to any further argument. "The wards on the cottage aren't as strong as they are here, though that will change. Perhaps whoever left it was trying to get at us here at the house."

"By leaving this?" Podmore tossed the photo back down onto the pile and the Remus in the picture crossed his arms over his chest as he again tried to leave the frame though it was charmed to prevent his escape. "And what of the attack?"

"We only just assumed Harry was the target," Sirius said, haltingly, his voice low, as if he only wanted James to hear. "Perhaps it was Remus they were after."

"Him?" Podmore jeered, but more quietly now, and Remus thought he sounded a bit unsure of himself. 

The room was silent for a moment, only the sound of the fireplace as it crackled and popped with its merry flame, and Remus stared into it. James, he knew, was watching him--regarding him--until Sirius broke the silence again. "You were an Order member, weren't you, Remus? That's why no one can find out what you were doing then and that’s why Dumbledore is so concerned now. No one was supposed to know."

Remus gave a start and jerked his head about to look sharply to where Sirius stood at his side. He couldn't deny it--didn't want to--but Sirius was right. No one was ever supposed to know. Remus didn't say anything, only just looked again to Professor Dumbledore when he cleared his throat.

"I think it's time for the truth, Remus," Dumbledore said. "No more secrets. They've served none of us well."

"Then it's true?" James asked.

"Yes," Remus finally said. "I did some work in the north for--for the Order, trying to prevent Voldemort from gaining a stronghold amongst the werewolves and vampires. I'm afraid I didn't have much success. They didn't trust me because I was a Wizard. Because I'd been educated at Hogwarts."

"You proved extremely valuable and did more good that you believe, Remus," Dumbledore said fondly. "Because of the prejudice Remus has suffered as a werewolf, Lord Voldemort assumed his loyalty. He was able to infiltrate quite deeply into their ranks and fed us information that led to many of our successes on the battlefield. He was also able to stumble across a rather large plot that may have marked our defeat have Voldemort succeeded."

"The spy," James said.

"Yes, there was one of our own, we knew, who was passing along information that nearly destroyed our chances of defeating Voldemort and caused the death of so many of our friends. The other side knew how valuable a weapon they had and kept it secret for well over a year, at least until Remus discovered his identity and conveyed that information to the Order, at great risk to himself," Dumbledore said, looking carefully at Remus. "So, in the end, there was one other person who knew Remus served the Order besides Minerva and myself. One former Order member who found out at the end of October in 1981. One who is likely posing this new threat to us now."

"Who?" James asked, but Remus thought by the sound of the tremor in his voice that maybe James already knew the answer.

"Peter," Sirius said, his eyes flashing as he looked at James. 

"Peter's dead." Remus watched James reach for Lily's hand, the blood draining from his face, and he felt tremendously sorry for them both.

"He disappeared, yes, but I do not believe he's dead," Professor Dumbledore said.

"So you think it's Peter doing this?" Lily asked.

No one answered her. Professor Dumbledore only just sat back into his chair, his eyes on James as James fought back another wave of emotion.

"I'm so sorry, Lily," Remus said after a while, when it felt as the silence would consume him. "James."

"Don't be sorry," Sirius bit out. "This isn't your fault. It makes sense now. Everything makes more sense. He was to be the secret keeper, we thought it was safer, and then Voldemort found James and Lily, and nearly killed them. It was only chance that--" Sirius stopped, pushed his hand through his hair and glanced down at Remus. "Of course, it wasn't chance, was it. That's when you--"

"Yeah."

"But then when Peter never came back. When we thought he died, I don't know. We thought he'd been captured and tortured. We did look. It never occurred to us that he could have been the spy "

"I can't believe this." James pushed up from his chair and walked to the fireplace and back. Frank drew Alice nearer him and Arthur folded his arms over his chest. They'd been quiet all evening and Remus couldn't help but wonder what they thought as well. Frank and Alice must have known Peter during school, too, he supposed. Even Sturgis was quiet now, his hands flat upon the table as his jaw worked hard. Peter had been an affable sort, Remus had heard, liked by all. Remus felt sorry for them all. 

"Why would he do this?" James continued when no one else spoke, and Remus watched as Lily stood to join him--to stand next to James and take his hand as James faced down Professor Dumbledore. "He was our friend. We mourned him--we still do--and all the time he was serving Voldemort. He was--They wanted to kill Harry. He could have killed Harry."

"We may never know his reasons, James," Professor Dumbldore answered him, just as steadily as before. "Voldemort was extremely skilled in gathering those to him who he thought would do his bidding."

"But why didn't you tell us before now?"

"Because we had our own spy we needed to protect. It nearly cost Remus his life to bring us the information."

"Professor--" Remus said, attempting to forestall Dumbledore from saying anything more.

"The time for secrets is long past, I think. You were definitely one of our best kept, but I think we can trust the present company, especially in light of current events."

"That's why they were saved," Sirius said, cutting across Professor Dumbledore's calm, diplomatic voice. His own voice was barely above a harsh whisper as he struggled to contain himself. Remus realized then that Sirius was shaking slightly, and when he met Sirius' eyes, they were that bright silver, intense and glittering with anger and gratitude--too much emotion to contain and it made Remus tremble a bit in response. "You saved them. You saved my family."

"But Peter escaped," Remus said. "I lured him away and meant to keep him there until Professor Dumbledore could come. He was--It was the night of the final battle in Godric's Hollow. He couldn't come and I was meant to guard him but--"

"That wasn't your fault, Remus," Professor Dumbledore gently said.

"Rabastan." Sirius still held Remus' attention and Remus thought back to the night at the Burrow, to the form the boggart had taken. He gave a quick nod and Sirius gripped his shoulder, giving Remus what strength he could, and Remus was again flooded by gratitude and…something else. Something he hadn't felt in a long time, if ever. He was suddenly, painfully aware that they had an audience though Remus still couldn't look away from Sirius.

"Yes. He followed me. He never trusted me, and of course he had good reason. I was completely untrustworthy." Remus gave Sirius a grim smile, which was answered with one of Sirius’ own, and Remus felt something warm blossom in his chest. He knew it now, that crush he'd had as a boy, the one that had never gone away--he wanted Sirius Black, and for a moment just then, he thought that Sirius wanted him back.

"So what does he want now?" Sirius asked. "If it is Peter. If he's still alive."

"He is."

"That's why you said you recognized one of them. It was him. We should have recognized him, too."

"No, you can't think that. You didn't expect him."

"But you did," James said as he looked sharply at Remus. "The break-ins. Gringotts. Grimmauld Place. He's searching for something, isn't he?"

"I don't know, James. I mean, I'm not sure." Remus looked away, hating to lie but unwilling to expose all his secrets at once. They'd been all he'd had for so long. "The timing could be off. They could still be unrelated. I just know he was there at the museum."

"We'll look into it, Potter," Moody cut in. He'd been silent, too, since slipping in to the kitchen late. He stared at Remus with his good eye while the other moved constantly--dizzyingly. "We'll need to lean on the Yaxleys more until they tell us what was stolen. Lupin might be right. These robberies have been too well thought out for Pettigrew. You knew him best, Potter. Do you think he could have done them alone?"

James winced as Moody spoke, clearly upset to think he hadn't known Peter at all. He drew Lily closer to his side and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "I don’t know. I never suspected he was the spy. I couldn't say what he was capable of."

"Perhaps," Professor Dumbledore said. "We should leave it here for tonight. I have a theory, though no more than that. We need more information. Remus, I'll call on you soon, and until then, I'll trust Sirius to keep you safe."

Remus was startled by the twinkling in Professor Dumbledore's bright blue eyes over his spectacles but next to him Sirius was nodding gravely, and straightened to stand tall, partially shielding Remus' body with his own as if he expected another attack in this very room.

"Until then, let us all keep safe and take extra precautions. The holidays are upon us, and I'm quite looking forward to James and Lily's party."

"The party--" James began but stopped when Professor Dumbledore spoke again.

"Should carry on as planned. Now, we've taken up enough of your time, I believe, Mrs. Potter. I see you have another guest, and we should perhaps be cautious about being seen to be meeting like this."

Remus and Sirius turned to look out the window above the sink and saw that Violeta stood chatting with Molly in the back garden as the children continued to play in the twilight. Behind them, they could hear the flames of the floo flare to life as first the Longbottoms then the others filed out. Professor Dumbledore was quietly talking with James and Lily, too low for Remus to make out what they were saying and he didn't try either, and there was the soft whir of Moody's magical eye as it continued to search for any sign of danger.

"I should be going, too," Remus said to Sirius and Sirius nodded. 

"I'll walk with you down to your cottage."

"I'll be fine. I think--" Remus paused to look over his shoulder at James. Professor Dumbledore was patting him on the shoulder before he turned to the floo himself, Moody following. "James needs you tonight, I think."

Sirius nodded, ran his hand over the back of his neck. "You’re probably right. Can I stop by later? Just to be sure you're all right."

"I'll be fine. I'm just going to bed."

"Yes, of course; you must be tired." 

Remus was halfway to the door before he stopped and looked back at Sirius, his brain catching up to what Sirius had said. Tonight hadn't been the first time that Sirius had stood up for him, but it was because they were friends. Remus had learned not to expect anything more. But the way that Sirius was looking at him now, made him question that--made him believe, if only just for this moment, that perhaps there was something more. Something to it. Just as he thought maybe he should go back and find out for sure, Violeta came through the door.

"Oh! Vi! I'm so sorry," Lily called out with false cheer. "I forgot we were meeting. Just let me get Harry in and settled."

"Take your time, Lily."

"I should be going," Remus said. Lily turned to him suddenly and surprised him by hugging him hard, and he flashed a helpless look to Sirius who was watching him in return. Lily held him out at arm's length by his shoulders, searching his face for a moment, before she rushed out the back to where Molly and Arthur stood with the children. "I'm going to go," he said, then cleared his throat. 

"You'll come to the party, Remus?" James asked from where he still stood at the fireplace.

"I'm not sure."

"Of course, he will--" Sirius and Violeta said in unison, and Violeta looked back at Sirius with narrowed eyes. "He'll come with me," she said. "Won't you, Remus?"

"I really should be going." Remus backed toward the door, meaning to escape before he embarrassed himself in front of everybody. He didn't quite make it before Violeta slipped her arms through his. "I'll walk out with you. Mind telling Lily I'll be right back, James?"

***

"What was that all about?" James collapsed into the chair next to the fire and looked Sirius over. His usually pale cheeks were flushed as he stared still at the door that led to the gardens.

"Don't know what you mean."

"'Course you don't."

"Do you think he's really interested in her?"

"Ah."

"Don't 'ah' me," Sirius said but he had the grace to look embarrassed about it.

"All right. Then I'll say I don't know. I think maybe he's just being polite."

"Good."

"Are you interested?"

"In Violeta? I already had a go, didn't I? Once was enough."

"I was thinking of Lupin."

"Remus?"

"You are."

"Shouldn't we talk about what happened tonight?”

"No." James stood, agitated at the very thought of Peter--over what he'd done to them all. Over finding out that he'd been betrayed so thoroughly. He crossed the room to lean against the sink and folded his arms over his chest, unconsciously imitating Sirius' stance.

"All right," Sirius said, drawing it out. "Fine."

"I was thinking of Lupin."

"What do you mean? About tonight? That was pretty amazing, finding out what he'd done."

"Yeah. I had no idea. We owe him a lot. That's twice he's saved Harry," James said. "But I was thinking about you and him."

"What? Don't be ridiculous, James. You were the one who declared him off limits to me. I haven't looked at him twice."

"You looked at him at least three times tonight."

"Prat."

"Besides, when have you ever listened to me?”

"Please, please, please don't bring up the one date Lily and I had."

"You could have told me, that's all I'm going to say."

"Why do I stay friends with you?"

"I always supposed it was my boyish good looks."

"There is that."

"So, why do you care if Remus asks Violeta out?"

"She's not his type. Or rather, I wouldn't have thought Remus was hers."

"He's smart, attractive, and blows things up with a regularity of which I approve. What's not to like?"

"I knew you were in love with him. You're sure he hasn't asked her out?"

"You'd have to ask Lily. If you're not interested in her--"

"Definitely not."

"Or him?"

"No," Sirius said and James laughed when it came slower than his answer for Violeta, and harder still when Sirius frowned at him.

"Why are you so sure Remus isn't her type?"

"What?"

"You said--"

"I know what I said. I don't know. I guess she was a little too keen in wanting to meet my mother. Can you imagine?" Sirius laughed bitterly. "She may be pureblood, Violeta, but still not quite good enough for Walburga."

"She wanted to meet your mother? She actually asked?"

"She suggested. Strongly. Regulus had apparently told her all about Grimmauld Place, and she wanted to see it."

"And you think it was a hint at marriage?"

"What else would it have been? We didn't get on at all, so I imagine my name was a bit more tempting than the bearer. So, now she's keen on our werewolf who has nothing but his honor and his education to offer."

“I'm not sure who that's meant to be a condemnation for, Violeta or Remus."

"I happen to think that both his honor and education are worth a lot, actually, but I can't imagine Violeta agreeing."

"I knew it. You are interested. Poor Remus."

"Yeah, well." Sirius rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and then over his chin. James stayed quiet, waiting for what he knew was coming next. "Are you all right?"

James looked up at Sirius for a long moment before he nodded. "It's just a bit of a shock, isn't it."

"We'll find him. Ask him why."

"Ask? In the old way?"

"Something like that."

"Do you suppose he'll tell us?"

"We'll have to be persuasive," Sirius said. "In the meantime--"

"In the meantime, you'll be careful with my tutor. I'm rather fond of him--I'm fond of you both."


	4. Chapter 4

It was late and the wind blew cold through Violeta's thin robe. She'd left her flat in a hurry after receiving an urgent owl from the Traitor. She didn't call him that in person, of course, only just thought it on the occasions when he pulled her away from her warm fire with his whingings and needling. He'd let his own fire go out, the wood too damp to keep it burning, and she tugged her scarf more firmly around her neck as she watched him pace the room, tearing apart the loaf of bread she'd brought him.

Peter Pettigrew had been handsome once, back when they'd been in school together. Perhaps not as good looking as James Potter or Sirius Black, especially not Sirius, but she'd found him cute enough--easy going and affable. He'd been so eager to be liked then, to have a girl--any girl--pay attention to him. He still liked that. Now, he was pasty from years of hiding in the dimmest corners of whoever and whatever was willing to shelter him, his skin hanging from his once pudgy frame as worry and stress ate away at him. He was nearly unrecognizable; though, Violeta noted, he still had his funny, scurrying walk that when combined with his overlarge front teeth gave him the appearance of a very large, very starved rat. Violeta shivered delicately at the imagery and picked her way further inside what he laughing called his study to perch on a broken chair.

"Does the werewolf have them?" Peter asked when he was finally finished with his meal, and wrapped the remains in a filthy handkerchief that he tucked into the recesses of his robe.

"I don't know yet. I'm not sure."

"You said--"

"I know what I said. Mundungus said it was him."

"You should have let old Dung take them from him, then."

"He wouldn't do it. He's afraid of Remus. It's better this way. It's just going to take time."

"We don't have time," Peter spit out. "Our master is coming, Vi."

"I had heard rumors--"

"We can hasten his return and have all the things that were promised us as reward for all that I gave up. No more scrounging around." Peter swept his gaze and dirty hand around the room, and the single candle flickered, casting shadows over the broken furniture and peeling wallpaper. "We have to have those scrolls. You must force the werewolf to give them to you."

"I will."

"How?"

"I told you. He's lonely--a werewolf can hardly be anything else. It'll be easy to convince him that we're meant to be together, and then he'll give me anything I ask. Men are fools when they're in love."

"Like me."

"No. Peter, I didn't mean that."

"Never mind. I didn't turn spy out of love for you. You were just a convenient way in."

Violeta bristled, hating the sound of Peter's voice but recognizing the lie. "You need me now, though."

"We need each other, Vi," he said, his eyes glittering as he tented his fingers in greedy thought. "When the Dark Lord returns, we'll need each other. The others will paint us as traitors--you who have gone back to being a simple potions mistress working with none other than Lily Evans herself, she who defied the Dark Lord three times. He won't be most pleased by that, I believe."

"And you who ran away when you had the chance to kill the werewolf after you discovered he was a spy, but didn't take it."

The Traitor made a sound of disgust and turned his back to her, rattling through some old firewhiskey bottles, searching for one that had even just a sip left but coming up empty. Violeta crossed her arms over her chest and wrinkled her nose. She couldn't believe she had once loved this ruin of a man, risked everything for him--continued to do so. She supposed she must love him still, though the idea was repugnant. "Something was going on when I went to the Potters' tonight."

"What?"

"I don't know, but Remus was there, and Sirius Black." The Traitor stopped his search, straightening though he didn't turn to face her. Violeta stood to cross the room, to tower over him. She knew he hated that; he always had. "You're not surprised, are you? After what happened at the museum. That was sloppy. I suppose you talked Dolohov into taking you there."

"Carrow. It was a mistake, I know," he said, his voice low, measured. "It's just that we're so close, and I need the scrolls. You said he had them."

"We'll get them."

"How can you even be sure? You said that Sirius had them."

"I thought he did." Violeta took a stumbling step back, her heel catching on a knot in the weathered oak planking. Peter caught her around her wrist, steadying her, his long, yellowed nails digging into her soft flesh. She gasped before she could help herself, pulling away from him before he could see her revulsion, though she knew it was too late.

"And now the werewolf," Peter spat. "Do you find him as handsome as you did Sirius?"

"I'm doing this for you--for us."

"And not just because it's as much your fault that the scrolls were lost to us in the first place? Of course you were lucky, weren't you, Vi? You had me to protect you. Me to take the blame."

"I didn't mean for it to happen the way it did," she said, hating the plea in her voice. It had been her fault, of course, that he'd been caught--that the plan had failed and the Dark Lord had fallen. He was right. She did need him. If Lord Voldemort ever discovered her role, he would destroy her. "Peter, listen," she whispered, turning to him again--reaching for him. "I just need more time. The Potters are having a party tomorrow night, but Remus isn't going. He'll be alone at the cottage. I'll go to him then."

"And do whatever is necessary?"

"Of course. I'll get the scrolls.

"We can't wait any longer."

"I know, Peter."

"I've waited so long as it is."

"I know. I’m sorry. I'll get them."

"And if you fail?"

"I won't."

"But if you do, we'll take the boy."

"Harry?"

"I was surprised to see that he looks just like James, though he has his mother's eyes. The werewolf fought hard to protect him." Peter pulled aside the collar of his shirt and showed Violeta the hastily healed wound along his neck. "If you fail, we'll see if the life of the boy is worth the scrolls."

Violeta swallowed hard and blinked against the sudden stinging in her eyes. Even at the height of the war, Violeta had never developed a taste for blood like some of the others--like Peter had. She believed in what she had fought for, had believed in Lord Voldemort, but something still revolted inside her at the thought of killing a child, especially Lily's son, not when they could so easily be turned. "I won't fail, Peter."

***

"It's freezing out here."

At the sound of Sirius' voice, Remus leaned forward from his hiding place at the side of the Potters’ house and smiled. He had only slipped away from the party for a moment when Sirius had gone into the kitchen to get them fresh bottles of butterbeer and he certainly hadn't expected Sirius to come searching for him. He watched as Sirius set down the open bottles on the stairs and crossed the garden. Sirius was looking particular wonderful tonight, in Remus' opinion. His bright red jumper, a gift from Harry who had picked it out all on his own, set off his gray eyes and his jeans clung to his long legs and showcased his particularly fantastic arse. Not that Remus was looking. Not much anyway.

When Sirius took his hands, rubbing them between his own, Remus dropped his gaze to his feet, his cheeks warming. "Not even wearing gloves," Sirius murmured. "You are the most ridiculous man. What are you doing out here?"

"Nothing. There were suddenly too many people," Remus said, and it was true enough. It wasn't just the Potters’ usual group, but Ministry people, politicians and others who were there to curry favor with either James or Professor Dumbledore. Remus hadn't planned to come at all, but then Lily had sent Sirius to Remus' cottage to talk him into it, and Remus found it impossible to say no. He suspected Lily knew that. 

"You mean you saw Violeta come in."

"Yeah. I guess I didn't want her to see me."

"Why?"

"She asked me to come with her and I turned her down. I said I was going to have a quiet night in."

"You still could," Sirius said, and Remus thought Sirius' smile went a bit triumphant though Sirius kept his attention on bringing warmth to Remus' hands, and Remus thought he could almost lose himself in the feeling of Sirius' long fingers and the calluses on Sirius' palm. Remus suspected the distraction was likely the point. 

"With you?" He'd meant for it to come out as a tease--a joke--but cringed when it came out sounding breathlessly hopeful even to his ears and he tried to tamp it down. 

"If you'd like."

Remus felt a flush of warmth creep up his throat and over his cheeks as hope rushed back in. Remus eased his hands from Sirius' though Sirius stood so close that Remus couldn't escape him. He wasn't sure how much it bothered him that Sirius had learned enough about him to anticipate that. He suspected not much, since even the thought that Sirius paid that much attention made something warm and pleasant pool in his chest, and he struggled not to let Sirius see the effect he was having. 

"I suppose I should say something to her. I don't want her to be angry.”

"Why not?" Remus' laugh escaped him before he could stop it, and Sirius grinned back, taking Remus' hands back between his own. "Can I ask you a question?"

"If you'd like."

"Are you interested in her?"

"I didn't think she'd be much interested in me."

"That's not an answer."

"No, I guess not. I guess I meant that I'm not used to people flirting with me. I don't have much practice, being what I am."

"And what are you?"

Remus looked up at Sirius then, his eyes wide with disbelief to find Sirius' usual tease was gone, replaced by honest concern. Ever since Sirius had found out about Remus' role in the war, the idea of his being a werewolf had become secondary, and it was strange to Remus, who had, with the exception of his relationship with Dumbledore, always been judged for it. It had been his defining characteristic--maybe not the first thing someone knew about him, but the last thing they remembered. Sirius and the Potters treated it as if it were just an illness he suffered from on occasion--an inconvenience. In the Potters’ case it meant that Remus had found the family he'd missed since his father had been murdered, but in Sirius’ it had translated into something else altogether. His schoolboy crush was amplified, improved by time, age and acquaintance. Remus found that he was quite on the way to falling in love with Sirius Black when he looked like this--full of care and compassion--and Remus had to look away before he betrayed himself completely.  
Sirius wouldn't let him get away that easily though. 

"C'mon, Remus," he whispered, catching Remus' chin between his thumb and forefinger and dragging his knuckles along Remus' jawbone. "You're one of the strongest Wizards I know, and your bravery during the war isn't a secret anymore. You're funny, smart, handsome--"

"Stop."

"Before I mention your extraordinary arse? I'm not surprised that someone is interested in you. What I want to know is if you're interested back, or if I'm in with a chance?"

Remus dropped his eyes, embarrassed, but Sirius nudged his face back up and Remus felt it--that swoopy, ridiculous feeling that he used to get as a boy with a crush.

"It's funny," Sirius whispered.

"What is?"

"It's like I've been waiting for something for ages, and now everything just clicks into place. I understand why James natters on about love. It feels fucking fantastic and scary at the same time, like flying."

"Without a broom," Remus whispered back and was rewarded once more by that bright, victorious grin that Sirius had been leveling at him more and more often. Remus' hands began to shake at the sight of it and he reached for Sirius to steady himself. "That's some line."

"Is it working?"

Remus laughed, Sirius joining in, until they were both giggling like children--until Sirius leaned in, nudging his nose along the warm skin of Remus' neck. Remus could hear Sirius breathing him in, and curled his fingers more firmly around his jumper. "Is it working, Remus?"

"Yeah. I think it is."

Remus didn't wait for Sirius to kiss him, but slid his hand around Sirius' neck and pulled him down. It was brief, only just the faintest brush of lips, though when Sirius didn't pull away, Remus tugged him closer and kissed him more thoroughly and could only think about how absolutely brilliant it was, better than any dream. Sirius tasted warm, sweet, and buttery from their drinks earlier but his tongue, when it swept across Remus' lips once and then again until Remus opened to him, was hot and velvety. Remus slid his hands over Sirius' back, bringing them together, and Sirius pressed his body against Remus where he leaned against the house. Remus could feel how hard Sirius was, and he moaned deep in his throat, nearly doing it again when Sirius breathed out a laugh, moving his kisses along Remus' jaw. 

"About that quiet night in," Sirius whispered, pushing his hips more firmly against Remus' and Remus pushed back. "Would you mind terribly if we left the party?"

"Should we tell James and Lily?"

"They're likely to figure it out." Sirius took Remus' earlobe between his teeth, nibbling gently, before he whispered, "I really wish we hadn't put up the wards to prevent anyone from apparating on the grounds."

"If I remember correctly, that was your idea."

"I should have thought it through more carefully."

"Remus?"

Startled by the sound of a voice, Sirius took a step away from Remus and deeper into the shadows while Remus leaned forward to see who stood on the back steps in a pool of light from the lanterns. "Violeta."

'There you are," she called to him. "Lily thought you had gone back to your cottage."

"I was just on my way back."

"Oh, would you mind if I walked with you?" She asked as she took a step down onto the grass. "I really wanted to speak with you."

"Actually, I was--"

"Hello, Vi." Sirius stepped out of the shadows and slid his hand over Remus' back before drawing him closer.

"Sirius." Violeta stopped, clearly unsure of herself as she looked from Remus to Sirius and back again. She pushed a strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail into her eyes and bit at her lip. "Are you--" she began and stopped as she took them in, seeming to answer her own question. "I had hoped…"

"I'm terribly sorry, Vi. I didn't mean to--" Remus started. "Sirius, I'll--"

Sirius nodded and pressed his lips against Remus' forehead before he walked down the path that led to the wood and Remus' cottage. Remus watched him, drawn to him, and was eager to follow, only pulled back to Violeta when she cleared her throat.

"You and Sirius looked very cozy," Violeta said, her voice stiff as she folded her hands in front of her and she held herself straight and still.

"I didn't mean to lead you on."

"You didn't. It was my fault. I read more into your smiles that you clearly meant." She flashed a thin smile, the line of her lips severe. "I've dated Sirius, you know, as has half the population. I don't want to see you hurt, Remus."

"I'm sure I appreciate your concern, Vi."

"It's only just that he's terribly unreliable."

"I'm sorry you found him such. He's been very kind to me."

"I'm sure, Remus, but in your condition--"

Violeta moved closer, smoothing Remus' collar but Remus stepped out of her reach. "I am sorry if you feel I've led you on. It wasn't my intention."

"I could be good for you," she argued as she curled her fingers into his robe. "We could be good for each other. If you'd only just give me a chance."

"I'm sorry, Vi."

"Please don't do this."

"I don't mean to hurt you, but I never thought of us as more than friends." Remus turned from her, pulled away less gently than he meant to as he started down the path to his cottage--to Sirius. "I am sorry, Vi."

"Do you really think that Sirius Black wants you, a great, dirty werewolf? He wants to fuck you and tell his friends he's had you. He can't love you. He'll never love you."

Remus didn't turn around; he couldn't bear to see her face or to think about the things she'd said. He didn't believe her, not about Sirius. He couldn't, not now that he'd touched Sirius--kissed him. He continued down the path, his cold hands buried deep into his pockets. Ahead, just where the path turned deeper into the wood on the way to his cottage, he saw that Sirius was waiting for him and it was even easier to keep walking. 

"I'm sorry, Remus!" Violeta yelled but he kept on, not looking back. "Please understand. Please come back! I don't want it to end like this!"

***

   
When Sirius woke, it was late morning and the milky winter sun was high in the sky, spilling in through the window of Remus' bedroom and falling into a shaft on the bed. Sirius stretched like a lazy cat before he tugged a mostly sleeping Remus back into his arms. Remus grunted, burrowing his face into Sirius' neck, and Sirius laughed quietly, his hand reaching beneath the pile of blankets to stroke along Remus' bare skin--down his scarred back and over his waist and hip, until he could curl his fingers around Remus' cock. Sirius kissed Remus' face, his cheeks and eyelids and his lips as Remus hummed out his pleasure, his eyes still closed. He reached for Sirius' cock, too, but Sirius only just batted his hand away, catching his wrists and pushing them into the sheets, pushing his body firmly into Remus'. Remus nudged his cheek, smiling as Sirius rocked against him until he was stuttering out his breaths with tiny, desperate sounds.

"Like this," Sirius muttered as he grazed his teeth against Remus' throat, moving so that their cocks aligned--so that Sirius could fist them both and move until they came together. Sirius collapsed heavily onto Remus, releasing his wrists, and Remus turned to kiss him, to hold him. 

They lay like that until Sirius rolled onto his side to lay next to Remus, whispering, "Good morning," just to watch Remus smile again and to see him open his eyes.

"Mmm. Happy Christmas."

"It is, isn't it? No wonder I got what I wished for."

"Did you?"

"Mmm," Sirius hummed, stroking his hand low across Remus' belly. "Best Christmas morning I've had since I got my first broomstick."

"It is just about perfect," Remus agreed. Sirius watched as Remus closed his eyes again and reached to lace his fingers with Sirius'.

"Just about?"

"I was just thinking how tea would go down a treat."

Sirius barked out a laugh, leaning in to kiss Remus again before he swung his feet onto the floor, the sheets pooling around his waist. "I'll make it and breakfast, too, if you have anything in your cupboards."

"There might be a jar of marmite and some biscuits."

"So you're not going to woo me with your culinary skills, then."

Remus grinned and curled more firmly onto his side around his pillow, his eyes wide open now as he watched Sirius stand and stretch before he tugged on his jeans, leaving them zipped but unbuttoned.

"You stay here and sleep, then. I'll manage," Sirius said and Remus only hummed at him again.

Out in the kitchen, Sirius filled the kettle with water as he sung Christmas carols, feeling ridiculously happy for the first time in an age. He tapped the kettle with his wand once, twice to heat the water to boiling before pouring it over the tea bags he'd found in the cupboard. While they steeped, he wandered the small kitchen finding it devoid of food, even of the promised marmite. He thought maybe he could run up to James' and raid their kitchen while Remus slept, knowing that Lily would likely take pity on them. On the small desk in the corner among the texts and parchments, Sirius found a scrap of paper but no quill to leave a quick note. He opened first one drawer and then another before he found one of those strange Muggle pens and something else--something he never expected to see. 

It was a small, silver knife with the letters _O.B._ elaborately carved along the blade. An _S_ had been added in a rough hand to make the initials read _S.O.B._ \--Sirius Orion Black. As Sirius turned the knife over in his hand, he tried to remember the last time he'd seen it. It'd been years. He’d always thought that Regulus had taken it. A moment later, he heard the floorboards creak behind him, and he turned to find Remus in a pair of faded khakis and an old jumper walking toward him with a slight limp.

"Is your knee all right?"

"Only a little stiff. What did you find?"

Sirius showed him the knife and Remus blushed. "Ah. You dropped that once," Remus said as he came closer.

"Years ago. I had to have been still at Hogwarts when I lost it."

"And I should have given it back. I was sixteen and rather stupidly sentimental, I'm afraid."

"You had a crush on me?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Rather."

"I wish I'd known."

"You should have it back." Remus closed Sirius' hand over the knife and leaned in to press a kiss to Sirius' bare shoulder. "I'm sure it meant something to you, and I was wrong to have kept it."

"You would say that," Sirius said fondly as he flicked open the blade. "It belonged to my father. He didn't so much give it to me as I borrowed it without telling. I found it particularly useful when I was younger, and so I took it from his desk one day."

"Yeah, I--ehm--discovered its usefulness over the years. You should still have it back."

"No… I want you to keep it." Sirius closed the blade and slipped it into Remus' pocket before he settled his hands onto Remus' hips. "Consider it a Christmas gift."

"I thought I’d already been given my gift. Twice."

"We'll get breakfast sorted," Sirius said, grinning against Remus' lips, "and make it a third."

Remus slid his hands down to cup Sirius' arse, to tug him closer as they began to kiss again, when the silvery spectre of James' stag patronus shimmered to life in the kitchen. Sirius shivered at the sight of it, dreading the panicked message even as James' voice filled the kitchen. Remus was already on the move, shoving his shoes onto his feet and grabbing his cloak as Sirius caught up and managed only just an old t-shirt of Remus' and shoes before they were both out the door, wands drawn.

Sirius ran ahead through the woods, finding the door to the house open and the kitchen ransacked. 

"James!" Sirius yelled and then again when there was no answer. He found James in the hall, a gash on his head. Sirius collapsed next to him, turning him onto his back and feeling for a pulse. It took him a few minutes to get James to come around and by that time, Remus was there, casting protective spells over the house and calling for Harry and Lily. There was no answer.

"They've gone," James said, his voice breaking. Sirius helped James sit up, to lean against the wall as Remus came back through. 

"We've got to get you to St. Mungo's."

"No! I'm fine," James said as he struggled to his feet. "They've taken Harry and Lily."

"Who has? At least sit down, James."

"I can't sit. They're gone. I have to get them back."

"We will," Remus said as he helped Sirius support James and move him into the kitchen. Sirius righted a chair and pressed James into it as Remus pointed his wand at the wound on James' head and said the incantation to staunch the flow of blood. "Did you see who it was?"

"It was Peter with--I don't know, that burly fellow from the Ministry. Carrow. They came through with Violeta."

"Violeta?" Sirius looked over his shoulder to where Remus stood in the doorway, casting another spell at the ground, and watched as Remus faltered for a moment. 

"She floo called this morning in tears. She said she wanted to talk to Lily. I was annoyed. It's Christmas, I said, but you know how Lily is. I took Harry out to look at his gifts beneath the tree but I heard a commotion in the kitchen and I went to see. Harry ran ahead of me, and then I don't know. I wasn't prepared, and they were gone before I could draw my wand. 

"There's no trace of them on the grounds. They had to have left through the Floo," Remus said. "She must have let them past."

"I was so stupid. I knew she and Peter had been together in school, but it was so long ago. I didn't think she could have anything to do with the Death Eaters. I should have seen."

"You couldn't have known," Remus said from where he knelt by the fire, once again casting an incantation, and Sirius was thankful for his calm. "There's something here."

James was on his feet again immediately, wand drawn, and Sirius caught him as he swayed on his feet. "What is it?"

"A message of some sort. Stand back." Sirius and James watched as Remus awkwardly stood, reaching to steady himself with a hand to Sirius' shoulder. He pointed his wand at the floo, the flame roaring to life, and then the kitchen was filled with the sound of Peter's laughter as they remembered it from years ago but gone slightly high, hysterical. He shook his head, displacing some of the embers before his mouth opened and a message came forth:

__

James, my old friend, I hate that we're forced to meet like this. I had hoped that one day you would come to understand how very persuasive the Dark Lord could be, but you only defied his will--his power. If only you'd seen reason when the Dark Lord gave you the chance, then things could have been so different. I don't wish to harm your family, but you must see that this is the only way. I have been forced to live like a rat for too long, my master banished. The time has come to set things right. I want the werewolf and the set of scrolls he's stolen from us. I want you to bring him to me by noon at my mother's grave. I was very touched to see that you've kept it up, my friend, and out of respect for that, I think you'll agree that the werewolf is a very small sacrifice in exchange for the life of Lily and your son."

The message ended and the fire consumed the image of Peter and then died away, leaving the kitchen cold and silent.

"Scrolls?" James asked, shaking Sirius' hand from his arm. "I don't understand. What do they want?" 

While Peter had spoken, Sirius had watched Remus, seeing how he paled visibly, his hands beginning to shake. Sirius reached for him now but Remus shook his head. 

“They want these,” Remus said, and drew out a roll of parchments from inside his robe. He broke the string that held them together and tossed them onto the table. Sirius recognized the one he had seen in Remus' cloak when they'd been at St. Mungo's, and he stepped forward to press it open.

"What are they?" James asked. "Why do they want them?"

"They belonged to my father. He created them." Remus sat in the chair that James had abandoned and watched quietly as James and Sirius bent over the scrolls. There were five all together, faded and smudged in places, the handwriting rushed but thorough. The runes were perfectly formed, and Sirius lined them up along the table, seeing now that they formed a complete spell. 

"After I was bitten," Remus continued, "my father was desperate to find a cure. He blamed himself. He discovered this instead--a spell to resurrect the dead and restore a fractured soul."

"He said that you stole them. He meant now," James said. "Gringotts. Grimmauld Place."

"They stole them first. Voldemort was offering a cure to the werewolves in order to gain their support. It was lies, all of it. There's no cure, but my father--" Remus stopped, and cleared his throat, straightened in the chair, struggling to go on. "He wanted to save me. I was all he had left. He was going to trade the spell for their cure but then he found out they were lying, so he broke the parchment into five scrolls and hid them away. By then they knew what it was, what he’d accomplished, and they killed him for it. 

"Before he died, he told me what he had done. During the war, I listened for news--discovered that they were hunting for them, too, but Professor Dumbledore told me to wait."

"He knew about them?" Sirius asked.

"I told him everything. When the war ended, he told me what he knew, and I've been searching for them since."

"That's how you knew Regulus had one."

Remus nodded and then looked at the scrolls for a moment. They looked harmless--inconsequential--but Sirius knew from the look on Remus' face how much they had cost him.

"What were you going to do with them?" James asked.

"I was going to destroy them. I had to have all of them before I could--my father had put protective spells on them. I only just got the last."

"At the museum."

"I'm sorry, James. I thought we would be safe. I was invited to be there. They didn't even know what they had."

"Someone did."

"I told Violeta about going to the museum. I didn't know about her and Peter. I never suspected. I wouldn't have put Harry in any kind of danger if I’d only just thought." Remus stood and gathered the scrolls together, using the remnants of the string to tie them back together. "Peter wants me. I'll take the scrolls and trade them for Lily and Harry."

"They'll kill you," James said, and this time when Sirius reached for Remus, he didn't move away.

"I know," Remus said. "But I won't let anything happen to your family, James. I couldn't live with myself."

"There has to be another way. We're not going to sacrifice you."

"Sirius is right, Remus. I can't let you do that. Besides, they'll use the scrolls to bring Voldemort back. We can't let that happen." James said. "We have to gather the Order together. Dumbledore."

"There isn't time," Sirius said as he looked at the clock.

"Then we'll go together. The three of us," James said as he took the scrolls from Remus. "We'll fight together."

***

There'd been no time to make a plan. At the edge of James' property, they apparated to the now abandoned village where Peter had grown up, landing in a field just outside of the derelict church where his mother was buried. Snow was just beginning to fall, and Remus tugged his worn traveling cloak more firmly around his shoulders and the hood low over his face. He could see that the churchyard wouldn't offer much protection in a fight. They were walking into a trap and they all knew it. To either side of him stood James and Sirius, tall and handsome in their black robes. James was nearly vibrating with pent up adrenaline, and Sirius took Remus' hand, giving it a squeeze as he offered a grim smile. Remus knew he couldn't let anything happen to either of them. They had no plan, but a small one was beginning to form in Remus' head.

As the church bells began to ring out the hour, startling them all, Sirius squeezed Remus' hand one last time before striding ahead across the field to hide on the other side of the church, meaning to protect them if things went poorly--and they were almost assured that they would. Sirius moved quickly across the yard, and hid himself just as the last bell tolled and silence descended once more. It was then that they heard the pop of apparition as Peter and Violeta arrived in the cemetery. 

"James! My old friend," Peter greeted them. He gave a little bow, his smile revealing a mouth full of yellow and decaying teeth. With his arms spread wide, the sleeves of his lurid, grease stained jacket hitched to show three inches of his wrists and the dirty hands below. "I was so worried you wouldn't come, and you've brought a guest."

"Where are they?" James yelled, drawing his wand. "I want to see Lily and Harry."

"Oh they're very near. Only, your boy is so very like you James. He got up to a bit of mischief, like we did at school, do you remember? I'm afraid I've had to lock him up."

"Have you hurt him?"

"Heavens, no. Just like I would have never hurt you, James. Do you remember how close we were? Why, you've visited my mother's grave every year on the anniversary of my death. I owe you so much, James, and I mean to pay you back." 

"Just get on with it, Peter," James hissed, raising his wand, and Remus grabbed his arm to stop him from firing off a hex.

"Patience. I've waited seven years for this moment. Where's Sirius? I had hoped he'd come as well."

"He's not here."

"I doubt that. He was always the one you turned to first, wasn't he? Never me. You never quite appreciated me, did you? You thought I was weak--"

"I didn't, Peter. We were friends."

"You and Sirius were friends--best of friends, nearly brothers--but I loved you best, didn't I? And still it was never Peter Pettigrew that you turned to, until the very end. Until you needed a secret keeper, and even that was a laugh, wasn't it? Stupid, fat P-P-Peter as secret keeper?" Peter smoothed his hands down the lapels of his jacket and rocked back onto his heels. "My Lord Voldemort was very pleased me with that day. He promised me he wouldn't kill you, James, unless you forced him to. He only wanted the boy."

"I want to see him, Peter. I want to see my son," James said as he took a step forward.

"Yes, I'm coming to that. You brought the werewolf, I see. Excellent. And the scrolls?"

"I have them," Remus said. "You can take them when Lily and Harry are safe."

"Oh, I think I'll be deciding the order of things here, werewolf. You tricked me once and it won’t happen again. You remember Violeta, of course. Tricked her as well, didn't you?"

"I didn't."

"Oh, she told me all about last night. How she came to you and how you went off with Sirius Black instead. Are you sure he's not here, James?"

"I told you it didn't have to be like this, Remus," Violeta said. "Your life was worth it, I hope."

"Were you going to kill me last night, Vi?"

"I had it planned out very prettily. I would have made it look like you attacked me and that I killed you in self-defense. No one would have blamed me. Lily and Harry wouldn't have to be involved. They would have found you and no one would have known about the scrolls. But now--"

"Now, I'll have the pleasure of killing you myself," Peter said, grinning again. "Do put your wand away, James, and bind him tight. Hands behind the back, I think. That's it; make sure he can't get loose. His wand, too, please."

Remus turned his back to James, holding very still as James used the thin blue rope Peter conjured to lash his wrists together. James turned him gently by the shoulder and reached inside his robe to take his wand, before he turned back to face Peter. Violeta darted forward and took Remus' wand from James before scurrying off to the side and out of the way. She had her own wand pointed at James, as did Peter.

"And the scrolls as well."

James dug his hand into Remus' robe one last time and came up with the scrolls. He held them up to show to Peter. "I want to see Lily and Harry now."

Peter grinned again and waved his hand toward the top of the church. Remus and James saw that Lily and Harry were trapped in the bell tower with Rodolphus Lestrange keeping watch. "They're quite safe. Rodolphus insisted on coming along once he heard that the werewolf would be here. It seems that Lupin killed his brother some years back as Rabastan was retrieving one of the scrolls. So by rights, the creature should belong to him, I suppose. If you would be so kind, James, to bring the scrolls and the werewolf to me."

***

Sirius eased his way into the boarded-up church, being careful to make no noise. Inside, he could see the hulking figure of a man who was rather gleefully smashing small statues against the marble floor. Carrow. Sirius inched down the dark nave toward the altar. The benches had been tossed about and broken to bits, some of them, and Sirius winced as his shoes crushed the plaster that had fallen from the ceiling, the sound loud to his ears. Carrow was too involved in his vandalism to hear, and so it was too late for him to notice when Sirius cast his spell. The full body bind felled him, and Sirius made sure to secure him tightly before he knocked him out. He had only just straightened up when he felt the tip of a wand press into the side of his neck.

"Hello cousin."

***

Remus looked up and saw Rodulphus, older now but still so very much like Rabastan had been in life, and then, at the church stairs, there was Sirius and the witch, Bellatrix, threatening him at wandpoint. Remus expected to feel fear but found none. Instead, he felt a burning rage--for his father, for James and his family, for himself. He trudged behind James, only just waiting until the scrolls were in Peter's hand and Peter had motioned for Rodulphus to free Lily and Harry and apparate with them into the cemetery before he looked up again, his plan suddenly clear to him.

"There now," Peter said, raising his wand to press it against Remus' chest. "Everything’s the way it should be, right, James? And to show you that I can be merciful as well, take your family and go."

James looked at Remus, and Remus gave him a grim smile and then a slight nod, before he leveled a kinder smile in the direction of Sirius. James returned it, and Remus waited until James stood between Rodulphus and his family before he charged at Peter, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder as first Peter and then Rodulphus fired a strong stinging hex against him. Remus' momentum caught Peter and they both fell to the ground. James drew his wand and fired back at Rodulphus before Rodulphus could cast another spell, and Sirius launched himself at Bellatrix.

"Go, Lily!" James roared as he ran to Remus' aid. "Take Harry."

Remus heard the pop of apparition once more and rolled to his back, wanting to be sure that Lily and Harry were safe now. Near him, Peter was on one hand and both knees, his free hand cradling a broken nose, the scrolls on the ground just out of his reach. Remus aimed a kick at Peter's ribs and Peter howled in pain, and Remus took his chance to move toward the scrolls before Peter could.

"Accio scrolls!" Violeta screamed, her voice just on the edge of hysteria, and the sheaf of parchments flew into her hand. Seeing they were safe, Peter screeched with laughter and struggled to his feet.

"Sirius!" James shouted as Rodulphus hurled curse after curse at him, pinning him behind a large headstone. Beside the church, Bellatrix and Sirius flung curses at one another. James tried to free Remus from his binds, only just managing it in time for Remus to roll away from another of Peter's hexes. 

Ignoring the pain that wracked his body, Remus ran toward Violeta. He had no wand, no hope, but blindly charged ahead, unwilling to let her get away with the scrolls. His fingers curled around her arm as she began to apparate away, and he tugged hard, hearing as if from far away Sirius and James shouting at him, and then he fell to the ground and all went dark.

***

"You gave us a scare. Again."

"What happened?"

"Splinched yourself good grabbing onto Violeta like that."

"I couldn't let her get away. What about Harry and--"

"They're fine, thanks to you. Again." Sirius pushed Remus' hair from his forehead, staring down hard at him for a moment, biting back more words of concern. "It's not that I mind having the same conversation," he joked instead. "But could we maybe not keep having it at St. Mungo's? I hate hospitals."

"Me, too."

"I haven't decided if what you did back there was incredibly brave or extremely stupid."

"Probably a little of both. What happened?"

"After Lily got away with Harry, she called for help. They arrived in time to capture Bellatrix and Rodulphus."

"And Peter?"

"He disappeared. They're searching for him."

"With the scrolls?"

"No. They're safe with Professor Dumbledore now. He's going to destroy them."

"Good. And Violeta?"

"She didn't make it. Peter killed her in the end."

"I'm sorry."

"I know. I can't forgive her. She wanted you dead, but I knew her at school. She was Lily's friend. I'm sorry for them. For all the pain this war has caused." Sirius cleared his throat and looked away. He was grateful when Remus took his hand.

"Will they let me go home soon, do you think?"

"I should call the nurse."

"In a minute." Remus smiled at Sirius and clutched his hand harder. "I suppose I should find out if I have a home to go back to? And a job."

"Of course you do," Sirius said, and watched as relief crossed Remus' face. He smiled and closed his eyes, leaning back into his pillow. "The Potters want you back, especially Harry."

"A thief and a werewolf?"

" _I_ want you back."

Remus opened his eyes and tilted his head to look at Sirius. "I thought I was going to lose you."

"Not likely. Not ever. Not when I've only just got you."

It barely started as a kiss. Sirius closed his eyes, his mouth pressed only just against Remus' lips. They breathed together, Remus tangling his hands in Sirius' hair and Sirius framing Remus' face with his fingers--touching him tenderly, learning him--until Remus parted his lips to kiss Sirius more gently than he had ever been kissed by anyone before. Sirius sank down onto the bed, into Remus. It was still so new, this thing between them, despite all that they had shared since the night of the party, but everything about it felt right, and if Sirius had ever been sure of anything, it was of this moment.


End file.
